The White Dog
by Soalric
Summary: A year after the collapse of Calico Technology, Penny's father gets a new job in downtown Highton, symbolizing a total departure from the family's dark past. However, it inevitably finds them again with the rise of the criminal mastermind only known as the Joker, a madman determined to bring the city to ruin.
1. The Heist

Credits: The settings of "Highton" and "Silverlake", as well as the character of "Mindy", were created by Australian Chaos in his story _Bolt the Superdog: Origins_, the events of which precede and are mentioned in my story. Therefore, you may want to read his FanFiction before continuing on to mine, though it is not necessary. In addition, thanks to CrazyCommunist227 for a last name for "Richard". Now, without further ado, let us begin:

* * *

Wednesday April 24

7:59 AM

The city of Highton rose from the landscape, steel and glass columns symbolizing the height of man's achievement. In between ran ribbons of asphalt, where fifteen million souls walked, jogged, or drove to their livelihoods. The city hummed to a frequency, and every law-abiding citizen harmonized with it. The daily clockwork of Highton was a marvel to anyone who took it upon themselves to witness it.

On the twenty-sixth floor of an abandoned office, a window shattered.

A man, known only to his accomplice as Dopey, recoiled along with his air cannon. Turning to his partner Chuckles, again an assigned alias, he grabbed a grappling hook, loaded it into his cannon, and fired it across the street onto the roof of the MidFirst Highton bank. Loading up their duffel bag, he secured it on the wire and sent it across, before the two slid along the dizzying length themselves.

Both men wore masks in the shape of a clown's face.

Over 250 feet below them, four blocks away, a third man walked up to a van and hurriedly jumped inside, joining two others. Again, all three were each wearing clown masks, and had their own names: Bozo, Happy, and Grumpy. As they drove, they opened their own packs and checked their possessions; each man received an automatic pistol and several clips of ammunition. In addition, Bozo carried a stock of ten grenades, which he meticulously counted out to himself over and over. As Happy drove, he began trying to make small talk to his temporary comrades.

"Alright, three of a kind! Let's do this!"

Grumpy responded, "Really? Only three guys for this job?"

"Well, two guys on the roof, that's five. Five shares is plenty…oh, and one for the guy who planned this all out."

Grumpy snorted, "The Joker thinks he can sit this out and still take a share of our work. Well, he earned his name, that's for sure!"

As they came within one block of the bank, Happy thought out loud, "Say, remember guys when that shit was going down with Calico Tech a year ago, and the creep's company folded? And there was all that crazy stuff going on? I swear to God, I saw his cars racing through that intersection, and there was this dog, right? Just a small little white dog? I saw the son of a bitch tackle a thug off his cycle, and hurl him around like a doll! I swear, right there! You can even see the crater in the bricks!"

Grumpy again retorted, "Man, you were probably just doped up that day. I know they were chasing SOMETHING through here, probably just some guy they were pissed at though." Motioning towards the dent in the wall, he reasoned, "Probably just bumped by a car or something.'"

"But remember, Calico got in deep with the Feds, something about illegal genetic experiments, augmenting animals and humans, weaponized genes? I swear, the dog must have been some rogue experiment or something!"

Before Grumpy could counter, they were in front of the bank. The three men did a last check on their weapons before quickly dashing inside. As soon as he cleared the rotating doors, Grumpy fired into the air, screaming "Alright, everyone down! Hands up, heads down!" Teller lines dispersed as the civilians dove for cover or the ground. Bankers and their clients flew out of their chairs and curled up in their cubicles. The three clowns moved from teller to teller, dragging them over the counter and commanding "Heads down and STAY DOWN THERE!" Bozo opened his bag and took out a grenade, then stooped down to a frightened man hiding behind a check writing station. Grabbing one of his hands, Bozo forced him to hold the small bomb. Placing the man's second hand on the grenade's trigger, Bozo proceeded to deftly yank the pin out, thus creating an efficient holding device; the slightest movement on the man's part would result in him releasing the trigger, and the grenade would blow. Bozo then proceeded to a blonde woman cowering under the desk to the right, and repeated his ritual.

Far above, on the bank's roof, Dopey and Chuckles were tapped into the bank's alarm system, waiting for their three partners to begin the robbery. Their cue came when the silent alarm went off; Chuckles quickly began to kill it off. As he worked, he noticed something. "Huh, that's funny. The alarm isn't trying to dial 911. It's dialing to a private number."

Dopey, getting impatient, demanded, "So? Is it a problem?"

Chuckles replied, "No, it's done. It just seems weir-"

A muffled gunshot ended his sentence for him, and he slumped over with a new bullet in his skull. Dopey grabbed both his and the late Chuckles' duffel bags before running for the stairwell. 'One less share, more loot to spare!' he thought, as he yanked the door open and darted inside. Rushing a few floors down, Dopey found the target: the vault, the steel veil between him and millions of dollars. No time to waste! He frantically tore open his bag and produced a drill, fixed it to the door, and began drilling for the locking mechanism. Suddenly, sparks erupted from the tool; the vault had been electrified! "What the hell?!" Shocked (in both senses of the word), Dopey recoiled from the vault. How was he supposed to get in now?

Meanwhile, in the main bank lobby, Bozo had just given a seventh lucky patron a grenade to hold close. He and his two immediate partners just had to stall for time, until Chuckles and Dopey came down with the bags of cash. Happy brandished his pistol to everyone in the lobby, yelling, "We're just making a withdrawal here, so if I were you I'd recommend just holding on while we complete our little transaction!"

Grumpy, noticing a bank guard trying to cautiously edge his way into a standing position, ran over and beat him right on the small of the back. "Get on the ground!" he repeated, "Nobody make a move, nobody! Stay down!"

As he hollered, Grumpy didn't see the banker in the cubicle behind him. He didn't notice the banker slowly opening his desk drawer, nor the banker removing a long, black object from said drawer, nor even the banker aiming said object.

BAM! Grumpy never got a chance to notice.

The sound of a shotgun shell sent Bozo and Happy to the floor, both diving for the same check writing stations where the bank clients and tellers hid. The anonymous banker clicked his shotgun, and strutted forward into the lobby. As he passed by, searching for the clowns, patrons noticed a strange symbol on his sleeve: a yellow-green cat's eye set upon a black background.

BAM! The banker fired, the pellets embedding themselves within the stand Bozo was behind, prompting the robber to scramble to the next stand. BAM! The man fired again, and Bozo moved away again; another shot, another stand. BAM! Keeping as low as possible while moving as fast as possible, he kept moving and avoiding the onslaught of BAMS until he was reunited with his partner, Happy, behind the last check station.

"Do you have any idea whose money you're taking!?" the banker called out, smiling triumphantly at the power he now enjoyed. "You and your friend are so DEAD!"

Happy turned to Bozo, "How many shots? Is he out?" Bozo pondered to himself, counting, then nodded to his only ally in the room at the moment. Happy stood up, confidently ready to take down this obstacle.

BAM! Happy collapsed, stunned at the oncoming lead he had been told not to expect. The banker reloaded…but there was nothing to reload! He tried again, with only an empty _click_ for his efforts. Hearing the foretelling _click_, Bozo stood up and emptied the rest of his clip into the banker with the green cat-eye patch. The man fell, struggling in vain to stay up. Bozo slowly lowered his pistol and stared at him...he had just shot down a man…

"Where the hell did you learn to count!?" Happy, back on his feet and none too pleased with his cohort for getting him a wounded left shoulder, went to check on the vault team. They seemed to be taking awfully long. Bozo, pleased at the solitude he now had, strolled up and down the aisles, looking from cowering man to frightened woman with only casual interest.

Happy staggered into the vault room, still reeling from the blast to his shoulder blade. When he came in, he saw Dopey had removed his shoes, using them as makeshift gloves to move the vault dial. Yes, it was clumsy and awkward, but a master vault cracker was still equally a master in such situations. Seeing Happy enter, Dopey informed him, "They wired up this door with, like, twenty thousand volts! What kind of bank does that?"

"An important bank," Happy answered, "A bank someone really doesn't want robbed. Some hotshot's probably stashing his loot here. The Joker probably knows it, that's why he's targeting this place. He really is as crazy as they say!" Looking around, he remarked, "Hey, wasn't an alarm guy supposed to be with you?"

Dopey turned a few cranks, and the vault door popped open. "Well, Joker said when the guy was done, take him out! One less share, ya know?"

Happy looked up quickly. "Really? He told me something kind of like that too…"

"Huh, no way?...Wait a minute, don't! Don't— "

Shoving Dopey's body aside, Happy ran in, and opening his bag, began shoving as much money as humanly possible inside. A few trips downstairs later, five bags full of millions of dollars waited in the lobby, with Bozo and Happy piling them up to go.

"Boy," said Happy, "That's a lot of money! Too bad the Joker didn't give us a bigger car. Although, I think I can make some more room…" He clicked his pistol, and Bozo turned around slowly. "Now Bozo, we both know the Joker told you kill me as soon as we loaded up, now didn't he?"

The normally silent Bozo looked at his watch and casually remarked, "Oh no, no no, I kill our bus driver…", and began edging to his right, away from the main aisle of the lobby.

"Bus driver?" Happy took a step to his right, into the main aisle. Bozo didn't reply, instead taking another step away. Happy, puzzled now, demanded, "We don't have a-"

The wall exploded behind him, and Happy turned in time to see the words EMERGENCY EXIT – TURN HANDLE rush out and hit him in his face. Flying backwards, he collapsed on the floor of the lobby. Bozo, pleased that his ride had come just in time, turned and began grabbing bags. The bank patrons all stared, shocked and wide-eyed, at the new hole in the wall of the bank.

The bus driver, again wearing a clown mask, leaped out of the back and also started grabbing bags. "School's out, time to go!" Trying to remain sociable under the circumstances, he kept attempting to start conversation. "Man, THAT guy's not getting up, is he?", nodding to Happy. No response from Bozo. "Boy, this is a LOT of money!" Again, only silence. "Say, what happened to the other guys?" Bozo responded with a blast of pistol fire, shutting up the jovial driver. Grabbing the last bag, he threw it in the back and started to get in, but was interrupted by a remark sputtered out by someone behind him, "You think you're something, huh?"

Turning around, Bozo saw it was the banker, the banker with the patch of the yellow-green cat's eye. He began strutting over, listening to the banker's monologue, "The guy that you just robbed…he'll get you good, you know. He has money everywhere. And he's got technology….science that will blow your mind. Look at you, what do you got, huh!? What do you have to beat hi-" The banker never finished his sentence, as his mouth filled with Bozo's tenth and final grenade. Bozo leaned down very close to the man and whispered, "Oh really?"

Then he lifted off his mask, and the banker saw a face. A human face, of course…but just barely. It was coated in white paint, with the eyes accented by black eye shadow. The hair was dyed green, but most prominent was a bright red mouth, forced into an appalling permanent smile by huge Chelsea Grin scars. The face leaned in close, and asked, "If your boss is so good, then tell me…why isn't he here to stop me?"

The banker said nothing, too startled by the horrific visage just revealed to him. The robber smiled a ghastly grin, then leapt towards the bus.

As this last surviving robber walked away, the banker took notice of the grenade in his mouth, then the thread which led from the pin. Following it, he traced it all the way to the clown, who now clambered into the bus and gave one last smile back to the horrified patrons of the bank. The clown tied the long thread to one of the handles of the bags, closed the door, then jumped into the driver's seat. And as the robber drove away, and the pin pulled from the grenade, and right before the device exploded, the banker realized he had just come face to face with the Joker.


	2. Fleeing the Past

"Alright Dad, that's my last suitcase! I'm ready!"

"Same here. If you're SURE that you're ready, close the trunk and jump in!"

Penny slammed the back of her father's sedan shut and walked around to the passenger door. She took her seat, then motioned to her dog, "C'mere, Bolt!" The white shepherd bounded across the yard and leaped into her lap, looking up at her excitedly. Penny smiled back, a relieved smile. Penny's father, Richard, got in beside her.

"Anything else? No other trinkets, clothes, anything?"

Penny chuckled in exasperation, "Dad, for the last time, I'm sure! Let's go!"

Her dad, finally satisfied with her assurances, started the car and began driving towards the freeway. Penny leaned back in her seat and, stroking Bolt gently, began to let the past year's events swim before her eyes. After escaping from Calico, life had seemed so much more…uneasy. Of course, having your father and yourself kidnapped, not to mention your dog gaining superpowers, would certainly be justification for mild paranoia. Especially after hearing that the doctor had survived the collapse of his headquarters, Penny and her father had constantly been on the watch; does that man with the wide hat over there look suspicious? Did that car drive down our street already? Did that woman just snap a picture of us? Are you SURE that car didn't go by already? Of course, every incident turned out to be a false alarm, but they still kept on their toes. Bolt had sensed their edginess, and had picked up on it himself. He spent literally every minute of his life with Penny in his sights, and if a stranger seemed to come a bit too close, he instinctively growled. His person was NOT going to be taken away again! Really, who could blame them all? Calico was still out there, somewhere, and almost certainly he was plotting some kind of return. And if he did, he would be out for revenge…

Penny shook her head. This is why they were moving, to escape from their past. So that Calico could not track them down easily, and so that the bitter memories would fade away. She regretted moving away from her friends, yes; but every time she looked at them, she saw Calico's men tearing their homes apart in search for a girl and her white dog. Every time she visited the park, she inevitably gravitated towards the bench where her world shattered in one phone call. The town of Silverlake was just a store of painful memories. Luckily, her father had found new residence in downtown Highton, and Penny desperately craved the change in scenery. A brand-new home would certainly help keep her distracted from the events gone by. Not to mention her father was also settling into new employment, thus completing the transformation of their lives.

Penny let her mind wander in this way for a several minutes, absentmindedly scratching Bolt behind his ears. She abruptly turned to her father. "So, where is your new job at again?"

"Well, my friend from college, Jon, is the third-in-command of a pharmaceutical company, AidMed. They have a large research facility right in the middle of Highton, and he was able to pull some strings, slice through red tape, and get me transferred from the university to their lab as a head geneticist. I'll being doing what I was before…." He abruptly paused, and cast a furtive, awkward glance towards his daughter. The memory of the two weeks of facing Calico were what they were trying forget. Penny looked back understandingly, and gently nodded. He continued apprehensively, "…what I was doing before, you know. Although under a better, saner boss." Attempting to lighten the mood, he smiled and added, "One with no global domination dreams."

Penny chuckled again. Just barely out of the Silverlake city limits, and already things seemed brighter! This new spirit of cheer compelled her to more questions. "How is Jon, exactly, then?"

"Well, his full name is actually Jonathon. Jonathon Blythe. We met each other in Calculus class, as freshmen. Trust me, you'll like him. He had the mind of a genius, the heart of a saint, and the wit of the Devil himself." Richard started laughing as he drew together his memory. "I remember one time, this jock had been shoving me around in between classes. A real big, tough guy, you know? Well, Jon got back at him by giving him an Easter Egg."

Penny's face contracted in confusion, "What? How did that work?" Bolt raised his head and cocked it to one side in a curious manner.

Her father continued, his face constantly twisting into an involuntary smile. "Well, he had taken an egg, just an ordinary chicken egg, poked a hole in it, drained it out, and then filled it with this nasty smelling goop he pilfered from the chemistry lab. Then he sealed it up with a bit of putty, and then," Richard let his laughter interrupt his story, "and THEN he covered it in a layer of chocolate he melted down. After it cooled, Jon walked right up to the jock, and said, 'Here you go, big guy, happy Easter!' Then that lumbering fool just smiled, and took a big old bite, and wham!" Richard smacked the steering wheel for effect, "Face full of the nastiest slime I've seen in my life! And his expression, oh, it was the most beautiful thing ever!"

Penny joined in her father's laughter, and Bolt, despite his inability to laugh, joined in the fest by barking joyfully. After calming down, Penny asked, "So, did the guy quit picking on you?"

Her father took a bit longer to regain his composure, but when he finally did he answered, "Well, no, the jock just ended up dividing time between each of us. For that particular stunt, we both got our laundry dyed pink for a month afterwards! But still, the whole dorm heard about it, and news of the Egg Incident spread like wildfire to all the other buildings. And you know what?" Richard turned to Penny with a knowing look in his eye. "I don't think Jon ever intended for that egg to stop him. In fact, he knew it wouldn't keep the jock away. I think he just wanted to prove to me that I wasn't alone, that he was on my side."

Smirking, he turned back to the road. "Yeah, Jon and I go back a long ways, Penny. And talking to him over the phone, I don't think he's changed a bit. He has himself a family now; a wife, beautiful one if he's truthful, and three children. In fact, he told me his oldest is right about your age. Not to mention they also love animals, they have a dog and a cat. Maybe we can organize a get-together, I think you'll get along fine with them!"

"Sweet!" Penny was relieved, now she was certain that new friends could be found in the city; this fear had been plaguing her for some time now. She closed her eyes again, drifted through her thoughts, and continued to pet Bolt along his back. The dog settled down and started to doze. Suddenly, Penny's mind landed on another, more troubling issue. Quickly turning again to her dad, she asked, "Is it safe in Highton?" Bolt's ears perked up again, sensing a dramatic change in the atmosphere of the conversation.

Richard, somewhat surprised by the sudden shift in topic, answered, "Well, it's as safe as big cities go. There's a police force, and as far as I know most of the population is comprised of law-abiding citizens. Our apartment is in a stable section of the city, and most of the stores and offices are as well. So, yeah, it's pretty safe." Confused by the unexpected question, he inquired, "Why, are you worried?"

"Not really. It's just that, the other day, I saw on the news that there's been a string of bank robberies in the city. I mean, if the police were so good, they'd catch these people, right?"

Richard crafted his response carefully, "Well, I'm sure it's just some small groups causing trouble, and the police will catch up with them soon. We just have to make sure to stay out of the ganglands."

"But Dad, the news says they're all connected. They always wear these clown masks, and they will kill not only people visiting the banks at the time, but also each other. Cops find bodies of the robbers at every scene. It just…doesn't make sense. Killing themselves off just seems pointless, I just..."

Richard sighed. He'd also heard the stories, yet had ultimately shrugged them off. "Now, don't worry, Penny. The police force will eventually figure out their methods and stop them. Heck, they dress like a bunch of CLOWNS, eventually they'll mess up and get carted off to jail." Sensing that his daughter was still troubled, he added, "On top of that, you have Bolt! God help any man who tries to rob a bank with you in it!" He reached over and ruffled the top of Bolt's head, and the dog panted happily in response. "See, you got nothing to worry about! He's got your back, can't ask for better protection than a loyal dog."

Penny looked into Bolt's eyes, and smiled with that reassurance. Yeah, he would always have her back covered. Stretching upwards, Bolt gave her a little lick on the nose. I'm here for you, he seemed to say. No money-grabbing clowns will get anywhere near you.

Checking the speedometer and a passing road sign, Richard announced, "Well, we'll be in Highton pretty soon. I recommend you and Bolt rest, 'cause you got to help me unload everything we packed!"

Taking her father's advice, Penny shifted in her seat, rested her head against the door, and closed her eyes. Bolt set down his head and did the same. As she drifted off, Penny thought of chocolate covered eggs, clowns, strangers in the park, and her dog walking alongside her wherever she went. But most of all, she thought of Calico, and how he seemed to receding far, far, far behind.

Highton lay ahead, and a peaceful, normal future lay with it.


	3. A New Start

The car horns of the city trumpeted as Richard, Penny, and Bolt weaved their way through the crowds of people. Bolt remembered how a year ago, he and Penny had been walking on this very pavement, searching for Calico's men and a way to stop his insidious plan. How they had been chased by car, cycle, and copter through the metropolis. How he himself had fought back, and had…he tried to stop himself. No, that was the past. Even as Bolt struggled mentally though, the images still came: Cars that he had effortlessly totaled, men he had thrown about like ragdolls. He had nearly become a living weapon of apocalyptic capabilities. But it was okay now…things were different. He was different. Physically shaking his head to remove the foul memories, Bolt quickly scampered back to Penny's side. He looked around, taking in the stunning sights and resonating sounds of downtown Highton.

* * *

They had just come from the new home, and boy was it something! Bolt recalled how, before the move, Penny had explained to him how their new home, which she called an "apartment", would be different from their old house. Still, the talk hadn't prepared him for actually experiencing it for himself. For one thing, it was in a simply enormous building! Last year, he had of course noticed the monumental skyscrapers that dominated the skyline. However, he never thought about what they were actually for, or what happened inside of them. Given their size, Bolt later supposed that they had a strange, ceremonious purpose for some human ritual he was not aware of; he had never guessed that people simply lived in some of them! But sure enough, their apartment rested near the top of one of these soaring edifices. Almost everything about it was strange. While they were first finding the apartment, they had to walk through a maze of hallways, with Penny's father at the front with two of his suitcases, Penny following him with her backpack, and Bolt following her with his…self. Bolt marveled at how all the doors they passed looked exactly the same, and he wondered how so many people could live in just one of these buildings. He began to worry that the apartment would be too small for all of them to fit! However, when Richard finally stopped in front of one of the doors and unlocked it, Bolt's fears quickly dispelled. The apartment was smaller, yes, but there was still plenty of room for a man, a girl, and a dog to move around and be comfortable. Bolt pushed through between Richard and Penny and began trotting from room to room to see what there was in this new domain. As he moved, however, his curiosity began to feel a bit disappointed. For whatever reason, Bolt had been expecting some wildly fantastical things, but nothing of the sort seemed to be in sight. There were a couple of bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room; it all seemed so…normal. However, he finally got his wish when he jumped up onto a chair by one of the living room windows and peered out. The first thing Bolt noticed was a different perspective, that the tall buildings looked a lot different from the apartment. Then he looked down, and was so startled that he fell out of the chair. The apartment was a hundred feet up in the air! He began barking wildly, summoning Richard and Penny to the window.

"What is it boy?" Penny inquired, "What's wrong?"

Bolt turned to the window and barked twice, prompting the two humans to look out. He then looked back at Penny and whimpered in fear. At first, Penny and her father were confused. Then Richard's face broke into realization, and he chuckled.

"Oh, I see. Don't worry, Bolt, we're SUPPOSED to be up this high. We're perfectly safe, this building's lasted for a few decades, and it's nowhere near coming down." He ruffled the top of Bolt's head reassuringly, and walked back to the door. "I'm going down to get the rest of our stuff, Penny. Wanna stay here and see the new place?"

"Sure Dad!"

"Alright, stay out of trouble." With a smirk, Richard turned and headed down the main hallway.

Bolt was still recovering from his scare, but now he also felt silly. He had powers! He had survived explosions that could obliterate ten of these buildings, he had lived through a bullet wound that would have killed a man, he had escaped the underground collapse of Calico's compound…and he had been frightened at a height that he would have survived anyway. Mentally scolding himself for his cowardice, Bolt clambered back onto the couch and laid down, casting a brief accusing glance at the window responsible for his shame. He was interrupted by Penny sitting down beside him and gently stroking his head, which had an immediate calming effect. He closed his eyes and just let the calm, secure feeling flow from his head to the rest of his body.

"Do you like it, boy? This is where we're gonna live now."

Yes, yes I like it, Bolt thought. It was normal, and truth be told that's how he wanted it. As long as he avoided the windows, he would be just fine here. He crawled and pawed his way onto Penny's lap. They stayed that way, a girl and her dog, for what seemed like blissful forever, until her father came back in. He set down two more suitcases, then reached into his pocket and took out a small object.

"Um, Penny? I need to talk to you about something important…"

Penny and Bolt both looked up. Richard stood in front of them. In his hands he held a tube of white hair dye.

Penny's tone shifted into suspicion, "What's that for, Dad?"

"Honey, people know about you here. Well, actually, they know about Bolt. There's a lot of talk locally about him and what happened last year. Lots of people claim they saw him running around and using his powers…" Richard cut himself off, and bit his lip. He hated having to ask this, but he had to.

"Now, it never really caught on. Thanks to Calico's cover-up, any photographic evidence has been destroyed, and it's mostly just an urban legend. But if people see Bolt walking around, we could have trouble. I already had someone in the lobby ask me about him, saying they saw his lightning mark. Luckily, I think I was able to cover, but we can't take any more chances."

He held out the tube of dye to Penny. "All I'm asking, Penny, is that you keep his mark covered up. This is the price we have to pay if we want to return to normal."

Penny hesitated for a moment, then slowly took the tube of dye. She stared at it for a second, and glanced over for some kind of reaction from Bolt. He also stared at the dye, turned to look at her briefly, and then simply laid his head down. Penny understood what he meant: Go ahead, you must do what is necessary. As her father had said, the price for peace. She opened the tube, squeezed a dollop onto her hand, and massaged it over the mark. Bolt didn't mind, it wasn't like it hurt him or anything. As her hands moved, Penny watched the lightning bolt disappear. No one would ever know.

* * *

When they finally left their apartment to meet Richard's friend Jon, Bolt had been nervous. What if someone still recognized him? As he cautiously made his way out of the lobby and onto the street, he began to feel more confident. Almost no one seemed to take special note of him. Only one person stared at him, a blond-haired woman sitting in the lobby, and Bolt guessed that that was the curious bystander Richard had described earlier, eager to catch another glimpse of the lightning mark which now could not be glimpsed. Other than that, no one really cared who he was, and that was how he wanted it. As they walked, Bolt's mind wandered through bitter memories and endless curiosities. He marveled at the sheer numbers he witnessed: the number of cars on the road, the number of people they passed, the number of towers that penetrated the sky.

After walking four blocks east, the trio finally arrived at the building that Jon's apartment was at. Jon himself was in the lobby waiting for them. As they walked in, an enormous smile broke over his face.

"Richie! Look at you, it's great to see you!" Jon scooped up Richard in a warm embrace, then stepped back and started shaking his hand vigorously.

"Hey Jon! Boy, thanks again for this opportunity. We just came from our place for the first time, and it's swell, it really is!"

"Glad to hear it. And who's this? Oh wait, Richie's talked about you before, you must be Penny?"

Penny grinned and accepted his offer for a handshake, "Yes, that's me. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Blythe."

"Oh please, Mr. Blythe is what my employees call me. Call me Jon. Oh, now let's not hang around here, what kind of host am I? Please, come up to my place!" Jon energetically led them to the elevator and pushed the call button. As they waited, he turned around and directed his attention to Bolt. "Now who is this big fella?"

"Oh, that's Bolt, my dog. Don't worry, he's friendly."

"Of course he is, I can see it in his eyes! And I bet he's smart too, huh?" He ruffled the top of Bolt's head, and Bolt panted happily back. For some reason, he felt proud being deemed worthy as a subject of Jon's interest. At that moment, the elevator door rang and opened.

"Ah, all aboard!" Jon announced.

The elevator took them to the seventeenth floor, at which point Jon marched them out of the small space and led them excitedly down the hall.

"It's the fifth one on the left, guys. Boy, can't wait for you all to meet the family. Oh, wait!" Jon abruptly halted, with the other three following suit. "Penny, you're not allergic to cats, are you?"

"Uh, no. No, I'm good with cats."

"Whew! Actually, I think I asked Richie that question before…" An assuring nod from Richard answered back. "Ah well, that's good. We have a cat and a dog, and I could safely assume you're not allergic to dogs." Penny and her father shared an amused, knowing glance with each other. Jon, not noticing, pivoted around and led the charge again to the fifth door on the left. He unlocked it and threw it open to proclaim, "Honey! Company is here!"

The first of the Blythe's to appear was a woman. Her face was framed with black glossy hair, and her emerald eyes blazed with life and passion, all of which complemented an excited smile. She walked swiftly up to the newcomers. "Hi, I'm Amanda, Jon's wife. It's a pleasure to meet both of you!"

Both Richard and Penny responded back, and the whole group stepped inside. Jon closed the door behind them while Amanda turned and called gently, yet authoritatively, "Kids! Come and meet Dad's friends!"

As Bolt moved into the apartment, he thought he smelled something…familiar. He could not remember what though. He racked his mind for someone or something to fit the scent. Nothing. As he searched mentally, he didn't notice three children coming up to him, at least not until a grubby hand was shoved in his face.

"Puppy!"

Bolt stumbled backwards for the second time in less than two hours. As he finally got his bearings back in the real world, he noticed his assailant: a two-year-old boy standing a few feet away. The child's eyes were wide open, filled with guilt. Bolt felt sorry for the poor boy; the kid must have been as startled as he was! He got back on his feet and walked over to the boy. The kid was really quite small, Bolt could look him straight in the eye. He gently nuzzled the boy and licked his face, letting him know that all was forgiven.

Amanda looked and chuckled, "Well, I see that Andrew's taken a liking to your dog! What's his name?"

"Oh, it's Bolt." Penny replied.

Andrew gleefully shrieked and giggled at the tickles of the new puppy's licking. Bolt smiled as well. So far, he was liking it here! Looking up, he saw another boy, this one about eight years old. This one had the green eyes of his mother. The older boy knelt down and scratched Bolt behind his ears, "Hey Bolt! I'm Henry. That's Andrew there, and our sister Elise and just over there."

Bolt stretched to see the girl Henry was motioning to. Elise was, indeed, just about Penny's age. She had the same black hair as her mother, and the same composure. She walked up and shook Penny's hand. "Hi, guess I don't need to introduce myself! Nice to meet you guys."

"Same!" returned Penny. "You got a cool place here!"

"Hey, hold on," Jon interrupted, "You can't very well compliment it if you haven't seen it! Everyone sit down, it's too cramped!" And he was right, this whole reception had occurred in the narrow hallway that led from the main door to the living room. After everyone filed into the apartment and sat down comfortably, Jon turned to Bolt, "Oh, you haven't met our own pets yet. Hope you like cats, fella."

Bolt sat up and watched the room that Jon turned to, ready to meet these new acquaintances. But he kept getting distracted by that scent….what WAS it?!

"Mittens! Mindy! Come! We have a new friend for you!"

For a third time, Bolt nearly collapsed out of shock. Mittens and Mindy?! It couldn't be….but what if…out of the whole city, could it be his two friends? All these thoughts swarmed his mind, and they suddenly all stopped. That was the scent! He had smelled the cat and the German Shepherd who had accompanied him on his quest last year! And just as he hit this realization, they walked out before his eyes. He met their gaze, and they met his. The trio stared at each other, astounded by their unexpected reunion. They stood like that for a few seconds, transfixed by the other party's presence. Bolt was the first to break out of his trance, yelping excitedly and bounding across the room.

"Mittens! Mindy! It's you!"

"Bolt!" both of them responded, "You're back in Highton now?!"

"Oh, it's great to see you guys! How did you end up here? And how have you been since I left? Was it hard on the streets, were you guys okay?"

The seven humans watched on with shocked amusement. Penny, especially, knew that Bolt was friendly, but this…this was something else! The three animals yelped, mewed and barked at each other almost non-stop, and they playfully scampered across the floor. And they had just met….right?

Jon finally broke the silence, "Well, I don't think we have to worry about any conflicts when you guys visit, so drop in anytime!" He started laughing, amazed at the unexpected show of friendship.

"Oh Bolt!" said Mindy "I'm so glad you came back!"

"Yeah, welcome back big guy," added Mittens.

Bolt looked at them, then at Penny, her father, and Jon's family. He thought about how the ten of them all would get to know each other, and visit together, and enjoy life together.

"No guys, I'm not back," Bolt replied. "I'm never going back. This is a whole new life for me. And I love it."

And his heart filled with hope and excitement. No one could ruin this whole new life.

No one.


	4. In the Underground

Up to twenty years ago, the brick façade on the outskirts of Highton had housed Kranz's Subs and Soups. A streak of poor investment led to bank repossession. Since then, no one had cared to even consider the property, and it decayed more and more by the hour. The once colorful sign had faded; dead leaves, rats, and birds littered the floor; over half the windows were replaced with cheap wooden boards. Not even vandals bothered the hollow shell any more, which made it perfect for its present purpose.

In what had once been the dining room, the tables were all lined up into a single rectangle. Chairs had been arranged accordingly, and a total of seven people were seated. A small mob of bodyguards and assistants surrounded them, bearing witness to this summit of power. At the head of the table was seated a tall, thin man wearing an eye patch across his right eye. His face twisted into a scowl as he addressed the crowd.

"Gentlemen, I need a progress report right now. How are our operations going?"

He looked to his left at a fair-skinned, blond young man to begin the circle. The man cleared his throat apprehensively before proceeding.

"Well, uh, Mr. Calico…"

"That's DOCTOR! Doctor, you imbecile! Mr. Hartway, you will address me by my proper title or not at all!"

Mr. Hartway jumped at this outburst, but still slowly proceeded, "Sorry….sorry, Doctor. Well, um…uh, our funds have continued to decline over the past month. Our attempts to buy more into the stock markets triggered a federal investigation, which we were just barely able to pay our way out of. Also, our chemical manufacturing subsidiary finally went under, so that's another enterprise folded." Noticing the fuming glare coming from Calico, Hartway added, "On the bright side, we were able to liquidate most of its assets-"

"ON THE BRIGHT SIDE?!" Calico slapped Hartway across the face. "I have enough money, you ignorant fool! What I need are ways to USE the money, instead of it just sitting there doing NOTHING!"

Hartway said nothing, he just settled back in his chair rubbing his raw cheek. Tears began brimming in his eyes. Calico, trying to calm down, motioned to a small red-haired man sitting to the left of Hartway. "Mr. Logan, give me something good."

Logan sat up a little straighter in his chair and produced a folded piece of paper in his pocket. He opened it up and read, "Our associates in East Asia have had a mixed month. Contacts in Japan, the Koreas, and Taiwan have come under increasing public pressure, and some have begun to sever their affiliations to us. We have managed, though, to keep what hold we have left within the Chinese Communist Party." Looking up to check the simmering silence coming from the good doctor, he continued, "Our operative rings in Europe and Western Asia, while also encountering increased resistance, have pledged renewed support for us…" Folding the paper, Mr. Logan commented, "I highly doubt, however, the sincerity of their statements."

Calico did not say a word, instead shifting his gaze to the next in line, a woman with auburn hair. "Miss Smith?" he quietly inquired.

Smith reached down into her briefcase and pulled out a black folder, on the front of which blazed a silver cat's eye logo. She took out a packet of papers and placed them onto the table.

"Sweet and sour on the home front, Dr. Calico. A number of Senators have been doubting their commitments to us, and new ones have not been biting. Luckily, our eyes and ears are still going strong, and have been picking up very few comments about our company; the federal government's not focused on us anymore." Turning a few pages, she abruptly announced, "New development, your old head researcher just moved into the city."

"Richard…" Calico cringed at the word, like a teacher being forced to inform a parent of which obscenity their child had used.

"Yes, he and his daughter are now living in downtown Highton. We have their address, and if you'd like to arrange for an operation, we can-"

"No, no you can't." Calico interrupted the agent before she could finish her offer. "I don't have the men, the machinery, or the influence to pull it off. And with the robberies over the past weeks, I don't have the money either." He slumped back in his chair, then started to chuckle a little. "Look how pathetic I am. I used to be on top of all this, I had half the world in my palm, and now what?" He motioned around the decrepit diner. "I'm holding a meeting in a dump! I don't even have to hide, anyone looks in they'll think we're a bunch of homeless bums staying warm!" Calico started working himself into a frenzy, "My company is in ruins, my name discredited the world over! And now, oh and NOW, I'm being pickpocketed by a bunch of CLOWNS! Stupid idiotic circus-folk, led bysome purple-loving freak, who have nothing better to do than steal what little I have left!"

"Speak of the devil…" echoed a voice in the kitchen. Everyone jumped at the unexpected interruption, and turned towards the dirty steel door that opened to reveal the exact trouble the doctor had been ranting about moments before. The clown began a slow, mocking laugh as he strolled to the end of the table across from Calico, "Ooh, haha, that 'stupid idiots' thing, oh hee hee, you're such a crowd-killer. Oh, and purple-loving freak, so funny, and yet, true, ha hahaha…"

The man standing directly behind Calico began moving around the table to apprehend the newcomer. "Hey you," the bodyguard called, "What do you want?"

"Why, I just wanna show you guys a magic trick!" The bodyguard paused for a moment, as he watched the clown raise his arm in the air, twirl it around, and produce a joker card in his hand. He moved it back and forth showingly. "Ooh, where did it come from?" The bodyguard scowled and continued moving. As he grew near, the Joker twirled his hand again, and the card disappeared. "Oh, where did it go?"

"Enough, clown!" The guard reached out to grab the intruder, who deftly stepped aside and reached behind the man's ear.

"There it is!" The guard turned, and saw the Joker holding the card again right by his head. Then, with one fluid stroke, the clown quickly sliced it across the bodyguard's neck, cleanly opening his jugular vein, and tossed it onto the table. "Ta-daaah!" The entire assembly recoiled in horror. The card flew across the table, stained with blood along the edge of its face, until it came to a stop in front of the doctor.

The Joker stood grinning devilishly, both arms raised in a gesture of pride at having completed his trick so successfully. "Oh," suddenly shifting his mood, "I'll guess I'll just take my own seat, since none of YOU are polite enough to offer me one." He sat down at the far end facing Calico, who was still shocked from the sudden death of his guard. The doctor attempted to regain composure and demanded, "Why are you here?"

"Well, I just happened to be strolling by, and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. And I think I might be able to help you."

Calico furrowed his brow in confusion, and looked at his associates for input. They glanced from him to the Joker and back again, seemingly curious about the proposition. "Very well," the doctor sat back and threw up his hand in exasperation, "what's your offer?"

The Joker began his presentation, "Well, let's go back to what you were saying before I jumped in here. A year ago, no living soul who knew your name would dare to cross you. And now, you're wanted in twenty-one countries and thirteen states…I mean, what happened, hm? Did they get spooked by that giant lime you have for an eye?" Calico self-consciously placed his hand over the eye patch which concealed his deformity. "Now, a guy like me…"

"A circus sideshow?" Hartway forced the joke out, provoking a chuckle in the assembly. The Joker ignored him and continued.

"A guy like me…here, forget that…let's get to the base of your problem." The clown gestured with his hands constantly for emphasis, "Your downfall, your plummet from prestige was caused by one, and only one individual. He's the reason why you're afraid to act on this Richard guy…" the Joker paused to let it sink in, "…the super-dog…"

The assembly shifted uncomfortably at the mention. The dog had been a touchy issue around Calico since the incident last year. After all, any human would be embarrassed by being defeated by an animal. The doctor began glaring at the Joker as he continued.

"See, the dog showed the world your true colors, dear doctor. It's only because of him that you have to tip-toe throughout the globe. And as for trying to rebuild your company," the Joker waved his hands to indicate the assembly of individuals, "this is pitiful. Your constant running around with armfuls of cash is pitiful. These people, are pitiful. And they won't work. The dog gets one of them, and they'll squeal!" The Joker suddenly clenched his fists, exemplifying the action. Hartway in particular began sweating at thought of being at the mercy of the super-powered canine who had single-handedly leveled an entire military base, and adjusted his collar nervously.

Calico impatiently interrupted, "So, are you hear to insult me, or do you have this so-called plan you boasted about?"

"It's simple…" the Joker paused for effect, "kill….the super-dog…"

The mob laughed, and Smith spoke out, "If it's so 'simple', then why haven't you killed him yet?"

"My father always said, if you're good at something, never do it for free."

Logan, still smiling from the unintended humor, mockingly inquired, "And how much are you charging for your pest control service, eh?"

"Uh, half…"

The smiles and jest vanished, and all eyes turned to Calico, faced with a brash request. The doctor, who had been becoming more and more livid by the second at this irreverent trespasser, stood up shouting, "Half of my money?! You're absolutely insane!"

"No I'm not. No, I am not…" Calico stood glaring as the Joker concluded, looking around at the congregation, "Look, if you guys don't deal with Fido now, soon…" he threw up his hands in mock uncertainty, "Mister Lime-Eye there," gesturing at Calico, "won't be able to get a card for his mommy's birthday-"

"ENOUGH!" the doctor slammed the table and motioned for his five remaining bodyguards to seize the insolent prankster.

"Uhhhh bupbup! Not so fast." The Joker quickly stood and pulled back the left side of his purple jacket to reveal a makeshift device comprised of a jar filled with a clear liquid sloshing around furiously, with wires criss-crossing across the lid and leading to a detonator fashioned out of a garage door opener – a detonator that was resting between the fingers of the clown's purple-gloved hand. The doctor's cohorts flew from their chairs and began backing away as they realized what the mechanism was. "Oh don't worry," mocked the Joker, "just some extra gas I brought in case I ran out. Pretty useful, though, in case things begin to BLOW…" he shook the detonator menacingly, "out of control."

Calico's fear took a backseat to his rage. "You think you can rob me and just get away with it?!"

"Yeah."

"Remember this jester's face!" Calico screamed at his associates, "I want this imbecile DEAD in a week! Five million for his head! No, ten million for him alive! I want to show him what happens to those who cross me!"

The Joker remained unfazed, but began slowly backing away. "Alright, I see you're a bit cranky right now, probably skipped nappy time today. Just feel free to call me back when you want to start acting a little more seriously. You have my card…" he motioned towards the blood-stained joker card on the table. He slowly walked back, waving the detonator around teasingly. As he approached the door, he kicked it open with his foot, quickly hurried into the kitchen, and was gone.


	5. Old TImes and New Challenges

Richard and Jon laughed at the screen, the antics of Monty Python drawing them back to their college years. Their families were out together at the city park, allowing the two friends to reminisce as they pleased.

"Oh, oh, and remember?" Jon held up his hand as if he was directing the film live. He joined the enchanter in stating his lines, "'There are some who call me…Tim…'" The duo cackled at the (in their opinion) timeless gag. "Boy, funny as hell every time, Richie!" They continued watching the Pythons' conflicts with the Black Beast of Augh, the Old Man from Scene 24, and the French taunter. As the screen faded to black, Jon popped up and offered, "Let's watch another! I got _Life of Brian_ here, somewhere…"

"Actually, Jon, can we hold on that for a second?" Richard's abrupt drop to sincerity startled the affable man. "There's something very important we need to talk about."

"Uh, sure, Richie, wassup?" Jon sat back down facing Richard, who took a deep breath and started his confession:

"Do you remember, last year, when I told you I was going on an extended vacation?"

Jon's brow furrowed as he searched his memory. "Oh yeah, I remember! Your vacation of impeccable timing! Just a couple of days after you left, all kinds of madhouse crap sprang up around Calico, illegal experimentation I believe."

"Right. And you know how the FBI eventually got involved over a corporate scandal? And his company ended up folding?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's right!" Jon's face lit up with memory, then dimmed again. "Did that have something to do with your vacation? You never did tell me all the—" his eyes suddenly narrowed with mock suspicion. "Richard, did YOU bring down the company? Some kind of inside job, James Bond style?"

"Well…actually, in a way." Richard then proceeded to narrate his truth of the incident; his discovery of Calico's plan for global domination; his purchase of and experimentation on Penny's dog, Bolt; his own abduction and interrogation by Calico; Penny's chronicle of evading capture before finally falling into the doctor's hands; and the final showdown that had resulted in the destruction of Calico's main compound. Jon at first didn't believe it and thought it was a joke, but as Richard assured him of his own sincerity, his smirk vanished and he began to sit up straighter, intently listening, asking questions only for clarification as necessary. When it was done, he sat back and thought over the incredible story for a few minutes. Richard could see him turning the yarn over and over in his mind.

Jon finally stirred, "I can understand why you kept this a secret, even from me, but…" he hesitated, "Why did you tell me this now?"

"Well, firstly, since I start working for you tomorrow, I thought you might like to know about my…erm, professional experience." Richard hoped for a chuckle from his friend; he got back nothing but a serious, inquiring stare. "Secondly, it was a long-winded way to tell you that Bolt, our dog, has superpowers."

Jon's eyes suddenly snapped wide with realization, and he scrambled from the sofa into a standing position. "You mean to tell me that right now, my family is at the park with a dog that can RAZE THE CITY TO THE GROUND?!" His hands grabbed at his hair over the sudden worry, and he dashed to the window, desperate for a glimpse of his wife and children to ensure their well-being.

Richard got up and walked over to soothe his friend, "Jon, Jon, calm down. There's nothing to worry about. Bolt is friendly, you said so yourself."

"Well yeah, but that was before I knew that he…and he was in our apartment!" He wheeled on Richard. "You brought him in our apartment!"

"I realize that, and I have no qualms about it, he's a safe dog!"

"You brought that thing near my family! How could you, Richard?!" He started working into a frenzy, forcing Richard to retreat back to the couch. "What if he had gone ape-shit crazy over the sight of our cat, he would have blown out the entire side of the building!"

Richard was shocked over the outburst; he'd never seen Jon like this before. "Look, if he was going to go crazy, he would have done so already. Bolt's been like this for over a year now. I knew he was good with cats, that's why I brought him along with us. And Jon, he's with my daughter too. If I did not feel a hundred percent certain about his stability, I would not trust him to be around Penny. Now just chill!"

The words acted as a slap in the face to Jon, who sank back down onto the couch. "You're right Richard, I'm sorry. I should trust you, you've never let me down. I just…" he choked up, and buried his face in his hands, "I get so worried about them sometimes. If anything happened to Amanda, I don't know what I'd do. And the kids, they're our whole world. I love them more than life itself. Richard, you're a father, you know how it is."

"I do, Jon. That's why I made Bolt. Without him, Calico would have drowned Penny. She would have died without Bolt there to save her. I chose to do what I did because of her."

Jon was barely listening anymore; his mind was stuck on the thought of his children. He chuckled lightly, "You know," grabbing on to a comforting tangent, "this past Christmas, Henry played in the school musical, a rendition of _A Christmas Carol. _He was Scrooge's nephew, and he played it so well! 'Merry Christmas, Uncle Scrooge!' That's all we heard for a month leading up to the play, and for a week after." Richard saw Jon's eyes brimming with pride, focused on the memory of the third-grader reciting his lines endlessly. "Oh, and guess what?! Little Andrew is starting to READ! He's so smart, he just sits cross-legged in his room for an hour or two at a time just poring over Dr. Seuss books. And I know he's reading, 'cause I'll ask him what a word says, and he can SAY it!"

Richard smiled with understanding; annoying school projects and excitement over a few nonsensical words were something he had gone through with Penny as well. "Jon, I would never do anything to hurt your family. They're lovely, all of them. And speaking of which," he leaned in close, "you weren't lying about your wife."

Jon burst into laughter, his old joviality back. "I told you, didn't I!? You didn't think I was lying, did ya?" He let his laugh die down, and the conversation returned to a normal atmosphere. "So, where is Calico anyway?"

Richard bowed his head as he tried to formulate a response. Deciding on the simplest and most straight-forward, he uttered, "I don't know."

Jon sat staring at him, then let his own head sink as he exhaled. "So he's just running around causing trouble?"

"Pretty much. As far as I know, he sold off most of his assets, meaning he's rolling in the dough. On the bright side," Richard looked back up, "due to his defamation, I doubt he's been able to use any of it. A few puppet corporations have been busted, some bribe attempts exposed here and there, but mostly he seems to be treading carefully." A period of silence, then, "I hadn't seen any sign of him at our old place, at least nothing I could be certain of, but I still wanted to move just so I could be sure to throw him off."

"Is there any chance of him coming back with another super-powered army? Any kind of X-Men showdown in our future?"

"No, not nearly. He has the technology, yes, but not the devices for it. I mean, to engineer an animal army, first he has to train them," Richard began counting his points on his fingers, "then he has to get a genetic splicer device, and the only existing two have been destroyed; both the one at Calico's complex and the one I hid in Joe's pet store . To rebuild one, he would not only have to get custom hardware, but he also needs the software program to be entirely rewritten out, as well as an enormous energy source that would equal the output of a small nuclear reactor. It's not just money, it's the skill and manpower and equipment needed to make one. And frankly, he has none of those three."

Jon began to smile, "So, I can't sell tickets for the super-powered war of the century? Bummer, could have been rich." Richard smirked at the renewed attempt at merry-making. "I guess we have nothing to worry about from Mr. Crazy Cat Man, then?"

"Yeah, hopefully."

Jon suddenly sat up a bit straighter, "Shit, I feel awful now."

"Why?"

"All those people who swear they saw the rogue experiment-or, I guess, Bolt last year…I called them loonies. Said there was NO way such a thing existed. Well look who's loony now! Damn you, street hobo guy!"

"Well, I hardly believe it myself, and I was the one who caused the whole thing!" Richard nodded his head in contemplation of how to continue his story, then hit upon the next vital issue, "Now, I also have to tell you, after the whole incident had been dealt with and we were back at Silverlake, I kept up the experiments for a while. I wanted to ensure that we would be ready in case Calico did exactly what you said, try to make a super-powered animal army. As time wore on though, I began to relax, and I eventually, as I mentioned, dismantled my device."

Jon grew curious, "Did you…make anything else?"

"A hamster, same powers that Bolt has. The thing is, though…" and Richard smiled at the thought, "he didn't WANT any powers. He wouldn't use them, all the little guy wanted was to watch television! I was worried at first that the machine had failed. As I was checking it out, Joe came in and tried to change the channel to his show that was coming on. All I heard was this ear-piercing squeal and Joe yelling. I turned back and he was sprawled out on the floor; the hamster had tackled him for the remote! Joe was okay, thank God, surprised more than anything else. Eventually, I found a way to have the hamster turned back to normal, and Joe could watch what he wanted again."

"So wait…" Jon interrupted, "You have a way to turn super-powered beings back to normal?"

"Yeah…" Richard could see where his friend was going with this.

"Then why didn't you take away Bolt's powers?"

"Two reasons: First of all, insurance in case Calico comes up with some completely different scheme and tries to take revenge. And second, Bolt has adjusted well to his powers, so I saw no reason to take them away. It's too late to change my decision anyway, I'd need the splicer machine again."

Jon leaned back, still unsettled at the idea of such a potent creature being in close proximity to his loved ones. "I understand that, Richard, and I'll tell you right now I'm willing to accept that; that doesn't mean I have to like it." He turned his head to face his friend, "And by the way, you seriously mean to say that you were ONE HUNDRED percent sure about giving him powers?"

Richard looked away, "Fine, you got me. I had some concerns. I was fairly confident that he would turn out alright; he is after all a loyal dog. But no one can authoritatively say what happens when someone is given power. In fact, in the week before I snuck Bolt to work, I had nightmares every night; most them were about the experiment failing and him ending up dead. I had some, however, which were far more harrowing. In these ones, the power ended up consuming his entire being. He forgot who he was, who I was; all he knew was that he had incredible abilities, and he was not reluctant to use them. Bolt smashed his way right out of the facility and into the city and…" Richard's voice broke at the vision's memory "…and there was carnage, carnage like no human being could create. It made those photographs you see of the Holocaust look like kindergarten drawings…"

"And you went ahead anyway?"

"I had no choice, Jon!" Richard began to get angry at the man's stubbornness. "Yes, there was a chance of that; but there was a far greater chance of success. And if I didn't act then there would have been no chance at all for any of us!" He stood up to tower over Jon. "Calico was going to kill millions of people, that I knew for certain! And I saw an opportunity to stop him, and I took it! And regardless of the chance at the time, it turned out okay! I did what I had to, and it turned okay!"

Jon pressed back in his seat, now having his turn as the target of rage. He said nothing, letting Richard lay out everything he had to say. Richard stood standing, staring at Jon with annoyance; how could he not understand what he had gone through? As he began to calm down, he sat down again and buried his face in his hands.

"Richard?" Jon softly began to make his final statement on the topic, "You're probably right. I guess if Bolt hasn't gone Four-Horsemen on us yet, he won't ever. And Calico likely won't make another move, right?" Richard nodded in agreement, his face still shielded by his hands. "We have nothing to worry about, then. I was just getting over-protective, I suppose." He clapped Richard on the shoulder, making him look up. "As long as my family is safe, I'll be okay with it all." He forced a weak smile, and Richard did the same.

"Thank you. I was so, so scared about letting you in on all this, I worried you would not want anything to do with me anymore."

"Well, let's just let the topic go, what's done is done. And hey," Jon popped up, "now that the Blythe Confessional is closed, let's get to _Life of Brian_?"

"Sure, why not?"

* * *

Lucas Tuck was the head of a repair shop at the edge of town, which was little more than a two-car garage with a separate waiting room built in to one side. His store was one of those that made you feel like he had known you his whole life, even if you were just passing through town. His only employee, a twenty-year old girl named Kim, would often strike up friendly conversation with customers about the latest sports scores, celebrity gossip, or some intriguing crime which had hit headlines. Luke, as his regulars often called him, always kept snacks filled and television running in the waiting area for the children (and impatient adults). He was an honest enough businessman, and friendly to the customers. Still, some people thought it seemed that he had a lot more money than he earned working on cars…

He was restocking some oil cans in the back when a man's voice drifted from the garage. "Mr. Tuck? You here?"

""I'll be right with you, sir! Step into the waiting area and help yourself to a granola bar and a soda."

"Luke, it's Calico business."

Luke stiffened. He had TOLD the doctor to keep his agents' visits limited to afterhours. "Hold on." Quietly cursing to himself, he dashed into the empty waiting area and signaled to Kim, who flipped the sign around to 'Closed: Come Back Later!' The two then moved into the garage to meet the agent. Luke demanded, "What is so important that you have to bother me about it now?"

The agent spoke forcefully and deliberately, perfectly conforming to the Men-in-Black stereotype, "Some kids came to me saying they'd killed the Joker. I told them to bring the body by, and they're outside right now."

"I see." Luke moved to one of the car lifts and raised it to about four feet off the ground. "Have them bring it in."

The agent went outside and gestured for a company of five people to enter. Kim lingered behind Luke, eager to see the clown for herself. The group came through the door carrying an object, body shaped for sure, covered in garbage bags. Luke motioned for them to place it on the lift. As they did so, everyone gathered around to see the identity confirmed. Kim reached out and moved back the part of the bag covering the face, exposing the scarred red, white, and green visage. She stared at the still face, intrigued by its strange appearance. Luke, satisfied with the verification, turned back to the five teenagers and the agent. "Alright, I'll get the payment authorized tonight. You got him dead, so that's five million."

"How about alive?" The voice came from the body. Luke whipped around and faced the dead clown he had been examining moments before, who had jumped off the lift and now grabbed him at the back of the neck. Kim lay on the floor, a blade going through her heart. Behind him, Luke could hear the five adolescents wrestling the agent to the ground. The Joker had a knife at the edge of Luke's mouth, and with his hold on the mechanic's neck, he was trapped.

"You wanna know where I got these scars?" The Joker whispered the question in Luke's ear, then leaned back again to relay his story. "My brother, was…a crack addict. And a gambler. And one day, the dealer stops by to demand a payment. Mommy grabs my brother's drugs to try and return them. The dealer doesn't like that. Not…one…bit…So, me watching, he slits their throats with a kitchen knife, laughing while he does it. He spots me, and he says, 'Why so serious?' He comes at me with the knife…"

The Joker slowly began sliding his knife into Luke's mouth for emphasis. "'Why so SERIOUS!?'", the knife began to press against the mechanic's cheek, "…he sticks the blade in my mouth…'Let's put a SMILE on that FACE!'…and…" he paused, and glanced at the agent, who was forced into a kneeling position and had been watching the story with horror. "Why so serious?" The agent grimaced away as the knife slashed through Luke's flesh, and the mechanic collapsed to the ground. The Joker tore away the bag covering his body and addressed the agent, "Now, our operation is small, but as you can see, we have a lot of potential for aggressive expansion! So I want you to go back and tell your boss that I'm repeating my offer! Oh," the Joker added as an afterthought, "and if he's still in a pouty mood, let him know the next life on the line…" and the clown bent down close to the agent, "is _yours._"

The agent looked up with a terrified expression as the Joker nodded to his five minions, who released him and kicked him away. Resettling his askew sunglasses, the agent fled the garage to deliver the message. Watching him go, the Joker suddenly turned to his cronies and announced, "I need a cola." He sauntered into the waiting area to help himself to Luke's hospitality.


	6. A Grand Day Out

"Bolt, your turn, go long!"

Henry threw his bright red Frisbee into the air, and it sailed over the ground. Bolt sprinted across the grass and, when the toy was at a reasonable height, leaped into the sky. He twisted his body around, snatched it right out of the air, and rotated all the rest of the way for a perfect four-paw landing. The game never got old!

"Good boy!" Henry grinned from ear to ear as Bolt trotted back proudly with the disc in mouth and handed it back. "Mindy, your turn again, fetch!"

The boy threw the Frisbee again, and the German shepherd raced after it. About twenty feet away, little Andrew sat in a sandbox, watching the game with great amusement. Every time one of the canines gave chase after the disc, the toddler gave an excited scream-laugh, the kind that only small children can make, and clapped his hands. Flexing the control he was gaining over language, he yelled, "Run puppy! Run! Yay!" Andrew refused to allow his fledgling vocabulary to keep him from expressing his enjoyment.

Around this spectacle, Highton Park bustled with activity. A family reunion and two birthday parties had assembled around the picnic tables, and the nearby barbeques sizzled with life and drops of fat. Parents watched their children frolic on the playgrounds, where the most pressing concern was whose turn it was on the swing. Couples drifted around in each other's arms, and young bachelors wandered along looking for someone's arms to be in. An elder woman rested on a bench to read her favorite book, _The Grapes of Wrath_; beside her sat Amanda Blythe, keeping one eye on her children and the other on the day's newspaper. On her lap dozed Mittens, wearing a collar and enjoying the fresh air. Further down the trail, Penny and Elise were sitting together on a bench to chat.

"So Penny, will you be joining us at Mendel High School?"

"No, I'm going to be homeschooled."

"Well, it's probably for the best, the school's filled as it is." Elise's eyes turned skyward as she rallied her thoughts. "The lockers are too small, and the crowds are too big. Every passing period feels like Black Friday, so much shoving and all. They're debating over whether to build a new school on the edge of the city to siphon off some of the students. All I can say is, they better!"

"Yeah, sounds like you're packed in like sardines."

"Oh, it's worse!" Elise suddenly switched topics, "If you don't mind my asking, why are you being homeschooled?"

The truth popped into Penny's mind; her father wanted her home to ensure her safety, namely to keep her around Bolt. While her dog could tag along with her to school in a small town like Silverlake, the rules were more strictly enforced in the city. But saying this would require an explanation of the entire Calico story, and Penny didn't want to do that, especially when Elise represented the best chance she had right now for a true, normal friend. So she snatched upon the opportunity set up for her: "Like you said, overcrowded schools. I'm taking online courses through the district, so we'll probably be covering the same material still."

"Cool, maybe we can get together to study!"

Penny became confused; Elise was a good student, sure, but not the hardcore kind to schedule study time.

Noticing her new friend's puzzlement, Elise leaned in close and whispered, "You know, study sessions. And every study session needs breaks to be effective." She winked and motioned with her head towards the movie theater and snack bars across the street. Penny finally got her hint and smiled.

"Oh yeah! Yeah, that would be, uh fun!" She nodded her head enthusiastically to indicate her agreement with the plans.

The conversation drifted from topic to topic, covering everything from favorite films and childhood crushes to a friendly debate on which music band was the best. Meanwhile, Henry found himself drafted by Andrew for sandcastle construction duty, giving Bolt and Mindy a break from their game. The dogs made their way back over to Amanda and gently whimpered at her. She looked up from the latest stock prices at the two. "Hey you guys, what's up?" She followed their intent gaze, and realized what they wanted: Mittens. Amanda began gently poking the cat. "Mittens? Wakey-wakey sleepy kitty, your friends want you."

Mittens tried ignoring the incessant nudges, pretending that she was still asleep. After five soft jabs of the finger, though, she capitulated and opened her eyes. She gave a wide yawn and faced the two canines, giving them a stare of damnation for disturbing her slumber. However, she obliged to their summons and leapt off the woman's lap.

"Alright, whaddaya two want?"

Bolt led them over to a clump of bushes by the pathway. "Well, I just wanted to talk, learn more about how you and Mindy have been doing." He turned and sat down, and the other two did the same. "When did the Blythe's find you?"

Mindy volunteered the first answer, "About five months ago, Jon found the two of us in front of the apartment and took us in. Before that, we pretty much just bounced along the sidewalks, you know, found a few restaurants that didn't cover their trashcans and evaded animal control, nothing too much. Although, there was this one time when a cocker spaniel ran past us and…"

As Mindy continued her account, Mittens curled up and attempted to sneak her way back into sleep. She flitted in and out of lucidity before an exasperated cry of "Mittens!" dragged her back. She raised her head and peered at Bolt.

"I'm sorry," she yawned, "but outside time is my nap time, plain and simple."

"Mittens," Bolt playfully scolded her, "You're lucky enough to even be able to go outside! Most people keep their cats locked up in the house, and the fact that the Blythe's let you out here is astounding."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. How about this, we go for adventure AFTER I'm done sleeping?"

"But you're always sleeping."

"Exactly." With that, Mittens curled up again, dead set this time on ignoring the two yappy dogs beside her.

Conceding defeat, Bolt turned back to Mindy. "Why does she even come along at all? Can't sleep be had indoors?"

Mindy giggled, "Well, Miss Whiskers does sometimes take advantage of park visits for actual activities. She's climbed the trees a couple of times, taken a leap or two at the birds, but yeah, it's mostly catnapping period. You actually got lucky this time, disturbing her like that and emerging unscathed. Just the other week, a terrier came through and made that mistake; you know how it is, dog sees cat and all. Well, he trots over and starts growling, and her eyes snapped open and her paw just went WHOOSH!" Mindy sliced her own paw through the air to demonstrate, "and that terrier went sprinting off with four slashes in his nose."

"Oh my…" Bolt edged himself away from the sleeping feline. "Wouldn't want to wake her, then!"

"You got that right…" Mindy suddenly squinted with confusion as she looked at Bolt. "Hey, I realized during our game that your mark is gone. Does that mean you're back to normal?"

"Oh, no, it's just covered up. Penny's father didn't want anyone to see me and know it's, well, me. Apparently, I'm a bit of a star around here?"

"Well, not so much a star, more of an urban myth. But yeah, when Mittens and I were on the streets, we heard some talk of you. The legend of the super-dog. You even got your own cult following!" Bolt tilted his head in puzzlement. "Yeah, you know how the human comic book heroes have fan clubs? Super-Dog Fans Union, no joking. They even paint their own pets with lightning marks in your honor."

"Wow, that's…nice, I guess."

"Of course, you're actually a white American shepherd, which might give you away as the real deal if you're not careful." A few seconds of contemplation, then "And does Penny's dad really think that hair dye will be enough to disguise you?"

Bolt smirked, "Well, if Superman can put on glasses and be unrecognizable, then I think I'm fine."

Before Mindy could reply, Amanda stood and called, "Alright kids! Time to head back, your fathers have had enough to time to get into trouble."

The two dogs got up and began strolling, side by side, towards the call. Mittens looked up with another stare of death, fuming that her nap had been yet again interrupted. But, grudgingly, she hoisted herself up and made her way behind Mindy and Bolt. Penny and Elise stood up and came over, continuing the flow of their conversation, while Andrew and Henry hurriedly added the last few details to their castle before proclaiming it "perfect." Their mother came over to scoop up the toddler.

"Let's get going, don't need those two men coming up with any crazy ideas." She turned to Penny, "Jon's told me all about what he and your father got up to in college, and I'll be quite displeased to come home to a booby-trap lying in wait." Amanda smirked as she turned back to fasten Andrew in the stroller. Once the child was ready to go, and Mittens had jumped in to join him in a much-desired rest, the whole group set out for home. As they continued to converse amongst themselves as they walked along the sidewalk, they made no especially significant note of the blond-haired man who rudely marched his way through them carrying a large, bulging envelope.

* * *

George Hartway forced his way past the family in front of him without seeing them; his pride still stung from the insult he had received the other night. He was determined to prove to Calico that he was still on top of his game. And he knew just how to do it. The heavy envelope under his arm crinkled as he scanned the storefronts. There! Three doors ahead of him was the Espression, a coffee shop owned and operated by Harry Rosen.

Rosen had been one of the higher-ups in Calico's company, working as the book-balancer; he knew exactly where all the money came from, who it went to, and how to invest it. However, he had not been high enough to be let in on the doctor's scheme, and exactly what was done with the cash when it reached its destination was left a mystery to the man. After last year's events, Calico had ordered a massive cover-up to destroy evidence of his genetic experimentation; the financial records counted as evidence. Faced with the unusual command, Rosen decided, instead of following orders, to probe into what all the money had been going towards, and had in that way discovered the conspiracy. Realizing that he was almost surely going to be targeted by the ensuing federal investigation, he had decided to come clean to the authorities, and handed over not only all the subpoenaed records, but even testified against his former employer in several in_ absentia_ cases across the globe. Rosen hadn't hesitated, though, to change a couple of numbers here and there on the records before handing them over, leaving about fifty thousand dollars free; after all, he HAD been promised a retirement bonus, and Calico was no longer in a position to hand one over on his own volition. The now ex-accountant quickly left the public eye and, using the pilfered-or, as he preferred, _misplaced_ funds, he opened his coffee store, and had since done little other of note.

Calico had been infuriated to hear of Rosen's betrayal, but had been unable to do anything about him. Issuing an order for a hit on the man would only attract unwanted attention, and hiring a third party to do so would leave a traceable trail of cash. Which was why Hartway was not following an order or leaving a trail; he was doing this as a free favor.

He marched up to the shop and pushed open the door, making the chimes tinkle. Hartway slid like a phantom among the tables, the many conversations of the patrons blending into an echoing hum. His hands gripped the envelope and moved it in front of his torso. Forcing through the lines of customers, he worked his way to the counter.

"Excuse me, sir," mumbled the teenager working the register, "you have to wait in line for service."

"I want…the manager…" Hartway ground out the words between his teeth. His hands clenched the envelope tighter, the knuckles turning white. The teen stared at him in puzzlement, then turned towards the door leading to the back.

"Mr. Rosen?"

A few seconds, then the man emerged. The man who now only had moments to live…

"Sir, is there a problem?"

"Damn right there is, Harry. Remember me?"

Rosen scanned the face again, then his eyes dilated with realization. "George Hartway…" he whispered. His hand began reaching along the counter. "What are you doing here?" More patrons began watching the disturbance with fascination.

Hartway slowly inserted his right hand into the bulging envelope. "I'm here to settle an old score, you son of a bitch."

He suddenly seized the side of the envelope with his left hand and whipped it up to aim it. Rosen simultaneously grabbed a blender off the counter and flung it at his assailant. Hartway flinched at the blow just as he squeezed the trigger of the automatic pistol concealed within the envelope. A storm of bullets erupted from the paper into the roof, eliciting a collective scream from the customers. As Hartway recovered from the unexpected appliance projectile, Rosen fled to the back, and the terrified clientele abandoned their drinks and meals as they clamored to escape the shop. His cover blown, Hartway tore the envelope off his gun and strode through the double doors that Rosen had gone through. He found himself in a large room, surrounded by counter cabinets on all side with an island sitting in the middle. He paused to listen…a single sound could give away his quarry's position.

Silence, only the dimming shouts of the customers as they exited the scene.

Silence. Hartway began cautiously stepping into the room, ears straining for the slightest hint.

Silence.

The brief _shwuh _of a pan being nudged aside to make more room.

He leapt towards the cabinet the sound had come from and threw open the doors. Rosen looked back, a large vegetable knife in hand, and tried to stab his assailant. Hartway grabbed the knife away and tossed it behind him, suffering little more than a shallow cut. He then ripped Rosen from his hiding place, dragged him out into the aisle, and kicked him in the head. The man hollered in pain. Hartway heaved him up again onto the counter and turned him around to face him in the eye.

"Wha….what…." Rosen spluttered out the words through the trickle of blood dripping from his forehead, "Who….I…" He was so confused and beaten that his words could not marshal themselves into complete thoughts.

Hartway grinned, enjoying the power he now held over this poor man. He brandished his pistol menacingly and mocked, "Why, Harry, it's me: the Ghost of Business Past…"


	7. Return of the Super-Dog

"Hey, watch it!" Elise yelled crossly as a blond haired man came walking up from behind and shoved past. He ignored her and kept walking, his eyes rapidly scanning back and forth across the store signs.

Penny looked after him in puzzlement. "Gee, what's his problem?" As she watched, the man quickly ducked inside a coffee shop a couple of doors ahead of the group.

"Don't take it personally, Penny," Amanda leaned over to explain, "you meet all kinds around here. You'll get used to it."

They continued moving, except Bolt. He stood staring at the door; something had not seemed right with that man. His movements, the nervous atmosphere about him, gave Bolt a feeling that he had no intention of drinking coffee.

"Bolt? Come on, Bolt!" Penny turned and called for him to follow. He glanced at her for acknowledgement, but quickly went back to staring at the door, and otherwise did not move. She came over and squatted next to him. "What's wrong boy?"

The sound of gunfire in the café answered her question. Amanda gave a yell of shock, simultaneous pulling the stroller backwards abruptly and grabbing Henry's arm to yank him away from the store. Elise, who had turned to watch Penny attempt to comfort Bolt, doubled over and grabbed her head in alarm. A shrieking crowd began to spill from the coffee shop, and the Blythe's moved backwards on the sidewalk to steer clear of the escaping mob. Mindy fled behind her family, while Mittens, awakened by the sudden cacophony, looked around in dazed surprise, wondering what all the commotion was about.

"Bolt!" Penny grabbed her dog and held him close. She could scarcely believe it; they hadn't been in the city for more than a few days, and already there was trouble! She stood staring, mouth gaping, at the storefront, scarcely noticing Bolt's attempts to pull away. Finally, using his strength, he managed to break from her grasp and darted towards a nearby alley, just to the right of the café. He turned, barked to Penny, and dashed in. Penny, understanding it as a summons but confused as to the reason, turned to Amanda and said, "Here, you guys get home. I'm going to head back to our place with Bolt, tell Dad I'm safe and that I'll meet him there." Amanda nodded hurriedly, then whirled around the stroller, ordered Elise to take Henry's hand, and led the whole family quickly from the area.

Going down the alley, Penny saw Bolt dragging the left side of his body along the wall. "What are you doing, boy?" The dog scampered over to her and pawed at his side; at the hidden mark. Finally, Penny saw what he intended to do: he wanted to help, to stop whatever was going on inside the café, but doing so in his present state would put his family in the spotlight. But if he just scrape off the dye…

Penny whirled around and spotted a few trashcans. Praying under her breath, she whipped off the lids and rummaged through the containers looking for…please let there be some…success! She pulled out a bottle of dish soap, empty enough to merit throwing away, but with just enough left inside to wash off the dye. Penny quickly moved to a nearby faucet and motioned Bolt over. She looked up to see if anyone was watching (no one was), then turned the faucet on full blast and, squeezing what little soap was left onto the dye, she began working frantically to wash it off. Bit by bit, the white gave way to gray, washing onto the ground. In less than ten seconds, the black lightning mark blazed forth again, the symbol of the immense power contained within Bolt's being.

"Alright boy," Penny gently held her dog's head in her hands, looking him in the eyes, "do what you have to do. Meet me on the roof of our apartment, I'll bring the dye." Giving him a quick kiss on the forehead ,she then dashed further down the alley towards home.

Turning back towards the entrance to the alley, Bolt's heart was pounding. He knew this was the exact opposite of what Penny, her father, and he himself had sought in the city, but seeing the chaos that had erupted, and the fear, the terror that had blared from everyone's face…he felt something, some force compelling him to intervene. Perhaps it was his own power, his ability to take action and stop the shooting.

Bolt sprinted to the sidewalk and peeked around the corner; a crowd had gathered in a semicircle around the coffee shop, both frightened and curious about the ongoing incident. Few took note of him; almost everyone was focused on trying to catch a glimpse of the gunman. As Bolt came out more into view though, an excited murmur came over the mob.

"Hey, look at that! Look!"

"So? It's a dog."

"No no, _look_. At his side!"

"Oh my God, it can't be…"

"It's not! Just some dope's dog dressed up, you know that."

As they watched with fascination, Bolt trotted to the entrance and, very cautiously, nudged open the ajar door. Chairs had been tossed about, tables knocked over, and food and drink spilled over the floor by the fleeing patrons; however, no gunman in sight. He slipped into the shop and, walking towards the counter, listened for any sign of the instigator. As the main door eased shut, muffling the buzz of the crowd, Bolt heard talking in the room behind the counter. Moving over to the double doors in the back, he again gently pushed open them with his snout, peering in at the scene unfolding inside.

"Why, Harry, it's me: the Ghost of Business Past…"

Bolt stiffened as he saw the pistol in the blond-haired man's right hand, being waved around as a mocking threat. A second man was shoved against a counter, with blood oozing over his face from a wound on his head. Since their orientation ran perpendicular to the doorway, they didn't notice Bolt coming in to their side.

"George, I…I'm not working with you anymore." The bloodied man did his best to keep his voice calm, but his heavy panting gave him a desperate tone.

"Shut your trap, Harry. Like it or not, you still belong to Calico," Bolt's heart skipped a beat at the name, "and you betrayed him, you betrayed us, our glorious movement."

"Glorious?" Harry's face looked up with disgust. "You…you were trying to kill billions of people, and…and enslave the leftovers! You call that…glory?"

"Don't try to claim moral superiority; you were working for the doctor too! Or did you just conveniently forget that?"

"I…I didn't know what madcap plan he was forming." Harry was starting to catch his breath again. "And when I found out, I came clean. I exposed you to the world as the murderous," the man forcefully spat out the words with conviction, "cruel, psychopaths that you are!"

George said nothing, staring at his target with a brooding glare. He suddenly punched Harry in the gut, which served to both force the ex-accountant into a doubled over position, yelling in pain, and snap Bolt out of his spectator-like presence. The dog began slowly positioning himself to pounce upon the gunman; he hadn't done this in a while, but he thought he remembered some basic moves from last year—last year! As his mind drifted back to that time, he remembered how he had ended up killing most of the people he had fought against. That was what had nearly turned him into a murderous, cruel psychopath like Harry just described. No killing. Bolt repeated the rule to himself: no killing. Incapacitate George, but don't kill him. He could do this…he could do this.

As he came back to reality, George stepped back from Harry. He had had his fun. "Well old boy," the pistol raised to aim, "you haven't changed the future one bit. But if you find it madcap, don't fret. You won't be part of it. Good-bye, Har-"

_BEEJOOOH_

"HOLY SHIT!"

George stumbled sideways in shock, falling to the floor; a pair of green lasers had struck his pistol, melting it in his hand! He stared at the now-amorphous hunk of plastic and metal on the ground, still glowing orange from the heat. His eyes looked around frantically searching out the perpetrator. Only then did he catch a glimpse of the dog that he had so absent-mindedly passed by on the street, the dog who had witnessed almost the whole proceeding, and the dog who had…melted his gun? George's face blanched in terror as he realized what he was up against: the Super-dog!

The canine growled menacingly, and stepped towards the man. George, too terrified to stand up, hurriedly scooted backward away from the dog, behind the corner of the counter. As Bolt stepped past Harry, he glanced at the man's face. He, too, was trembling at Bolt's sudden appearance; he still remained far more composed though, simply staring at the dog without moving a muscle. This man had been a vital cog of Calico's machine, Bolt thought. But...he didn't _look _evil. And from what he had heard, it had seemed that Harry had tried his best to hinder the doctor's plot. Turning back to the corner George had disappeared behind, Bolt moved on. Harry watched him walk past, his eyes filled first with dread of a brutally vicious demise, then disbelief at the possibility of being spared.

As Bolt neared the corner of the counter, he paused. George would be expecting him coming, and was probably waiting with some makeshift weapon, ready to attack if he came around the edge. He needed to regain the element of surprise; he needed to do something George would not expect, and he would not be expecting…Bolt thought hard. What would George not be expecting? Going over the counter would still give the man an opportunity to defend himself, and going the other way around would make too much noise and take too much time. Which meant, for maximum effect, he had to—of course!

Bolt backed up a bit and spread his paws apart, assuming a stable pose. He aimed himself at the side of the counter where George would be hiding, took a deep breath, and launched himself _through _the wooden counter island. The counter splintered as he dove into the cabinet door closest to the corner, then out of the perpendicular side. As he emerged, he heard George screaming at the unexpected attack. A dull, metal object hit Bolt's side, but had no real impact. George had been waiting with a frying pan, ready to try and fight against the angel of death which had suddenly flown upon him. Now, in such a close proximity, the weapon proved awkward and ineffective without the proper leverage.

The man fell backwards in panic, and Bolt landed on top of him. George tried to strike Bolt again on the side with the pan; still no effect. Bolt responded by snarling fiercely and placing both of his front paws on the man's throat. George dropped the frying pan and, a desperate gargle emerging from his mouth, grabbed the dog's paws in a futile attempt to lift them off; they proved too strong to budge. As the sound continued though, Bolt decreased the pressure he placed on the chokehold to avoid strangling the man. George rapidly drew in several shallow breaths, never taking his sight off of the beast which had him pinned on the ground. The man's voice shifted to a pathetic, pleading tone, "Please….please, don't hurt me..."

Bolt grew enraged at this…this ANIMAL'S audacity! He, who had viciously attacked and tortured Harry just a few feet away, who had planned to turn himself into a monster to subjugate humanity alongside Calico…this coward was asking for mercy?! He pressed down again with his paws, causing the man to renew his attempts to pry them from his windpipe. Anger swelled within Bolt, and fury built in his eyes; this fiend did not deserve to live! Seeing the wrath boiling inside the dog, George choked out a sob, and tears began streaming down his face.

For a moment, Bolt considered completely crushing this brute's neck altogether, simply pushing down until his spine snapped. But he remembered his promise to himself… killing George like this would be little different than beating a man, teasing him with a pistol, then shooting him dead; he would be no better than this villain.

That didn't mean, however, he had to keep him conscious.

Maintaining the pressure he currently applied, Bolt kept his paws on George. The man's struggles grew weaker and weaker, and his rasps came slower and slower. Eventually, he ceased moving, and Bolt released him, letting his head fall to the side. For a second, Bolt worried; had he done it again? Was the man dead? Tilting his ear down, he stooped to George's chest to listen. He exhaled with relief as he picked up a faint heartbeat. The man was alive! He stepped back to admire his handiwork; George was probably going to be sore when he woke up, and Bolt could already see two bruises forming where his paws had been. But the important thing was that he had shown restraint, even in the face of someone who had certainly deserved death. Snorting at the unconscious body, Bolt turned to leave, only to find Harry in his way.

He wasn't looking at Bolt, though; he was staring at George, lying on the floor in a mess of shattered wood. Harry cautiously stepped over, keeping one eye on Bolt as he moved, then bent down to listen for George's heartbeat himself. Raising his head, he looked directly at Bolt. Bolt stared back. For the longest time, neither moved, until Harry drew a breath and whispered, "Thank you, dog. Thank you."

At the moment, police sirens began growing in the distance, and Bolt whipped around to face the door. What would they think of finding him here?!

"Go!" Bolt turned again to face Harry, who gave a small smile. "I'll vouch for you, just get out of here!" Bolt nodded, then turned towards the kitchen door. He sprinted back through the dining room and into the crowd, who made a circle around him, flashing their cameras and recording video with their cell phones. They had heard the commotion inside, and had been both itching to see what was happening and terrified to actually see. Police cars were beginning to drive up, their sirens dying out. As Bolt stood in the middle of the mob, and police officers began jumping out of their cars and barking orders, he searched for a way to escape. Looking up, he found one. Focusing all his power in his paws, he leaped!

Leaped with all the strength he had! The crowd below him gasped in amazement, then cheered.

The commotion died away beneath him, and he soared to the top of the building he had just emerged from. He landed, turned himself, and jumped again onto the roof of the skyscraper next to him. He kept leaping from roof to roof, trying to make his way home, until the applauding crowd fell behind.

The congregation continued to cheer madly, watching the small dog hop from along the skyline. The police looked on in bafflement; some whipped out their own phones to record for the folks back at the station. The super-dog was real!


	8. Our Headlines Tonight

Penny anxiously stood in her apartment building's elevator, watching the floor numbers count up. Bolt would surely be almost done by now, and she had to meet him on the roof. First, though, she needed to grab the white dye. Getting off on her floor, she hurried down the hallways to the apartment. As Penny fumbled with the key, she jumped when the door opened on its own. She found herself staring at her father, a grim look on his face and the television control in his hand.

"Welcome home, Penny." His voice was deceptively smooth.

"Oh, uh…hi Dad!"

"Come in."

As Penny entered and her father closed the door behind her, she wondered why he hadn't asked why Bolt was missing.

Keeping a light-hearted tone with subtle hints of underlying annoyance, he spoke, "Jon was getting kind of bushed, so I decided to let him rest and come home a little early."

"That's nice, Dad…"

"Yes, well, I got home about ten minutes ago. I decided, while I was waiting for you, to turn on the news," Penny stiffened, "and you want to know what I saw on there?"

A pause. "…what did you see?"

"You _really_ want to know what I saw on the headlines of the evening report?"

Silence.

He angrily pointed the control at the television, and the power light flashed on. "Go ahead, look." As the screen came to life, Penny saw two news anchors, a woman and a man talking excitedly to each other. In a small inset window, there were videos of Bolt: cell phone clips of him sneaking into the café, footage from police car dashboard cameras of him jumping from the ground onto a building, a video taken from a helicopter of him leaping across the rooftops, and live news cameras filming a blond-haired man being loaded onto a stretcher, two paw-shaped bruises on his neck. Across the screen ran the headlines: SUPER DOG SIGHTING? IS THE SUPER DOG REAL? POLICE STUNNED BY SCENE.

Penny looked up timidly at her father. He stood, without saying anything, his eyes constantly switching from her to the television, then back at her. After a few minutes, a commercial break came on, and he turned and demanded, "Well?"

"Well, we were at the park, and we were about to come home, then a man, I think that man that they showed on the stretcher, went into a café and started shooting..." She paused and waited for feedback.

"And then?"

"And then Bolt wanted to help. He wanted me to take off his hair dye-"

Richard remained composed, but his eyes widened, "You took off his dye where everyone could see you?"

"No. No!" Penny shook her head emphatically. "We went into an alleyway, and I checked to make sure no one was looking. Nobody can trace him back to us."

"Uh huh." Richard remained skeptical, "And you said he wanted to help?"

"Yes, Bolt kept pawing at his mark; he realized that he's in an alter ego, and he chose to switch out of it. He's trying to protect us."

"Penny, this is real life! Alter egos and saving the day and all that fantasy is stuff you find in the old ten-cent Superman comic books. In the real world, people can get hurt. We could get hurt. Penny," her father pointed his words with conviction, "Bolt could get hurt. Do you want that?"

"Of course not!" Penny began to get defensive, "But he knew what he was doing! And come on, do you really think anyone can hurt him?"

Richard looked down in exasperation. She was right, no one could get anywhere near Bolt if he didn't want them to. And if Penny was really as careful as she claimed she was, then there wouldn't be too much risk for her. He was still reluctant, though, to allow this behavior; this is why they left Silverlake, to not deal with this anymore. "Penny," he pleaded, "I thought you didn't want this anymore."

"I didn't! I thought Bolt didn't either, but apparently he felt a need to protect people. What was I supposed to do, say no?"

Before her father could answer, the news came back on. A female reporter stood in front of the café alongside a man whose face clearly revealed that he had been beaten. Blood had dried in a trickle down his face, and his forehead had turned purple from bruises.

"Welcome back to our very exciting story everyone," the reporter began, "Jennifer Ashton here with Harry Rosen, who himself saw the super-dog up close! Mr. Rosen, tell us what it was like." She tilted the microphone towards the man.

"Well Jen," Harry began, "It's quite simple. The dog saved my life." Penny's father slowly moved to sit down on the couch. "The man who just got carted away had every intention of killing me. If he, the dog, had not shown up, I would not be alive to talk right now."

"How close were you to the super-dog?"

"He went right past me, about as close as you are to me right now." Harry gestured for emphasis. "The first thing the dog did was laser my assailant's gun out of his hand-"

"Laser? Like, laser vision?"

"I'm assuming, yes. Well, then the attacker tried to flee, and the dog apprehended him."

"Wow, that's quite an amazing story there! Tell me, Mr. Rosen, were you at all frightened?"

"At first, yes. I mean, a super-powered dog, not exactly something you come across everyday!" Harry chuckled, "But after all, dogs are man's best friend. And I'd say, Jennifer," Harry paused and smiled at the camera, "why, I'd say that Highton has a new best friend now."

The two concluded their interview, and Penny turned to her father. He was deep in thought, his thumb and forefinger making a V over his mouth.

He muttered, "You can stay careful?"

Penny realized what her father was about to say. "Yes, of course!"

"Don't tell anyone?"

"No, my lips are sealed."

"Keep Bolt under control?"

"Don't worry, he'll be fine."

A long pause. "Fine, you and Bolt can play superhero."

"Oh, don't worry, Dad, we'll do great!" Penny rushed into the kitchen to grab the hair dye. "Gotta go, gotta meet our hero on the roof right now!" As she dashed out the door, Richard stared after her, then sighed and rested his forehead on his palm in exasperation.

How was he going to explain this to Jon?

* * *

On the other side of the city, another group of eyes watched the newscast attentively. Dr. Calico had called an emergency meeting and ordered a television wheeled into the abandoned shop. Everyone stared in shock, disbelief, and slight terror at the report, at the super-dog seemingly resurrected and now threatening to hunt them all down. A little white ball of fur which had the strength of a dinosaur, the intelligence of a human…and the innate predatory instincts and skills of a dog.

The doctor stared at the screen, a grim look of impending defeat on his face. "Mother of God…" he murmured.

"He's got Hartway." one of the attendees remarked. Calico would normally rip into the imbecilic fool for stating something so obvious. Now, though, he had no fight in him. Mr. Hartway was indeed in police custody; such a nervous wreck would crack under the slightest pressure, and would sing the police anything they wanted to hear; even worse, what the feds wanted to hear. Then, when the cops came after the rest of Calico's men, even Calico himself, the dog was going to be right alongside them. This dog was going to be the death of them all. Unless…

The doctor whirled around in his chair to face the congregation. "Who has the clown's card?"

"The Joker guy? I think Miss Smith kept his information."

Smith nodded in confirmation and pulled out her briefcase, rummaging through its contents to find the requested piece.

"Ladies and gentlemen, he may be our last chance. Now that this dog has started up his antics again, our hand has been forced." Calico took a deep breath, then continued, "Set aside half of my funds for payment." An astonished murmur went through the meeting. "I either have to part with some of my money and take a chance that this will work, or I can do nothing and lose all of it for sure."

"But Dr. Calico," objected a woman, "such a large amount? Are you sure?"

"That's what the clown wants, that's what he gets. Now all of you, get out of here and go find him!" At the cue, the entire mob stood up and, chairs squeaking and scratching, filed quickly away; all, that is, except Mr. Logan. He apprehensively approached Calico, who had remained seated and turned back around, staring at the continuing news story.

"Doctor?" No response. "Doctor, going head-on against the dog is suicide. You know that! The Joker, he has no powers, nothing to defend himself with. Ordering him to target the dog or the dog's family is a death sentence."

"Well, he wants to do it, he can do it." Finally switching the television off, Calico began strolling towards the exit with slow, deliberate paces. "We are desperate, Mr. Logan. Suicide soldiers are all we have left."


	9. Ultimatum

Highton's police chief rested in his swivel chair and stared out the window of his office. Located ten floors up in the Department of Public Safety, the room offered a broad, reaching view over the city park and the skyline behind it. The chief slowly stroked his bristling mustache, which was slowly graying with the years of experience. Years of experience….and yet nothing like this…

The door behind him opened. "Chief Carls?"

Carls abruptly turned back to his desk and the newcomer. "Ah yes, Officer Thompson, come in." Morgan Thompson closed the door behind him and sat in front of the chief's desk. "Has the report been prepared?"

"Ah, yes sir." The officer flashed a large manila file folder he was carrying. "A complete chronicle of what happened at the Espression four days ago. Witness testimonies, security camera snapshots, full medical reports on Harry Rosen and George Hartway, and the rest of the paperwork mumbo-jumbo." He leaned forward and placed the file on Carls' desk, then sat back again.

The chief opened the folder and browsed through the contents, absorbing himself in the components of the case. "George Hartway, identified as the instigator of the incident, still in the hospital?"

"No, sir. He was cleared for release yesterday."

"Has he been placed under arrest?"

"Yes. He offered no struggle; in fact, he seemed eager for us to slap the handcuffs on him."

The chief chuckled huskily. "Was the hospital really that bad?"

Thompson gave a half-hearted smirk. "Very funny, chief. But in seriousness, he seemed afraid for his life. He's part of something bigger, and he was quick to admit it as soon as we got to the station. We've kept him in the holding cells for interrogation, and so far he's been an open book."

Chief Carls looked up with interest. "Something bigger? Like a gang?"

"Sir," Thompson grinned triumphantly, "he's connected to the Calico case." He pulled a second manila folder out of his jacket and offered it to Carls.

The chief's eyes sparked with zeal as he grabbed the file, laid it on his desk, and leaned forward to listen more intently. "Well, get on with it! What did he spill?"

"Mr. Hartway has been with Calico for years. He faced charges last year of money laundering, corporate misconduct, and conspiracy to perform illegal experimentation, but he pleaded non-guilty and was acquitted on all. Well, while he was recovering in the hospital, I did some digging around." Thompson reached to open the file and sorted through the papers looking for a particular piece of evidence. "Right there, his target: Harry Rosen, money man for Calico."

"Right, I remember Rosen, aided the investigation last year in return for immunity."

"Exactly, chief! Which is why Calico would want him gone, which is why our friend Hartway was dispatched to eliminate him. Of course, now that he's failed, he's singing a different tune. Now that he's offering to give us information-"

"We can finish this thing off!" The chief grew excited, and gestured wildly. "Thompson, this Calico case has had us chasing our asses for months! We haven't been able to proceed press charges locally because we couldn't get evidence, but now we have this! This could be our big break, to finally nab the doctor! Tell me, what is he offering?"

Thompson proved better at retaining his composure, but still showed definite signs of satisfaction at having obtained such an important lead. "Mr. Hartway has volunteered to not only provide names of conspirators, locations of meetings, and documents related to the case, but he also wishes to testify in court. He gives one condition, however: he wishes to remain in police custody indefinitely until he feels that Calico will no longer present a threat to him."

"By all means, let's grant it! This is too good to pass up. I don't blame him, I'd be scared of that creep doctor myself. Especially with his freak mutant experiments running all over the city, bloody hell."

"That actually brings me to my next point, Chief. We have so far failed to locate or identify the individual labeled as the 'super-dog'."

"Well, keep working on it, Thompson." The chief looked back at the folder, "We need it dealt with immediately."

"Chief," Thompson hesitated, but took a deep breath and continued, "with all due respect, I do not believe we need to 'deal with' him at all."

The chief glanced up at the officer, annoyed at having been defied. "You do not believe that we need to stop the super-dog?"

A solid, slow headshake answered him.

The chief leaned back in his chair and stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Thompson, it is the job of law enforcement to maintain order in the city. Do you disagree with me?"

Another headshake.

"Now, apparently you believe that having some god-like canine running around the streets on its own volition is considered 'orderly'; I, on the other hand, consider it a threat to public safety."

"Chief, he stopped what would have almost certainly been a murder. You call that breaking the law?"

"I call that vigilantism," Carls huffily stood up, "and vigilantes are dangerous! What's more, super-powered dog vigilantes are dangerous! This dog is unpredictable, uncontrolled, and poses a threat to everyone in Highton. Oh, not just that though; even if he's a reincarnation of Mahatma Gandhi himself," the chief raised his forefinger and narrowed his eyes, "he still took the law into his own hands. And no one, _no one_, takes the law into their own hands in _my_ city."

Officer Thompson sat staring at the chief, then looked down at his folded hands. He had no argument to counter; he only had a gut instinct, a feeling that this dog posed no danger and could further the interest of public safety. Chief Carls, though, refused to take risks based off of someone's feelings. The chief exhaled hoarsely, and strolled over to the wide window behind him. He gazed over downtown Highton.

"Thompson, we got a lot of people depending on us. Fifteen million lives can go to bed every night and sleep soundly because of us. I'm not going to be the one to put that all on the line. I realize he has proven himself helpful, and I understand why you believe what you do; but _you _must realize that he has also proven himself capable of inflicting massive damage, and that's why we cannot take this risk. We need to find the dog. We need to have order."

As if to answer him, a dead man and his dog swung down and slammed into the window.

"SHIT!" Carls stumbled backwards and tripped over his chair, falling to the ground in alarm. Thompson, inversely, leapt out of his seat and pressed against the window, horrified at the sudden apparition.

The man and dog had been hung on the same noose, and both faces were painted white. Their eyes swelled wide, frozen in a glazed-over stare of mortal terror. But there was something worse, much worse on their faces.

Their mouths were slashed open and highlighted in red.

* * *

"Hey Dad, just finished up my classwork for today! Ready to head downtown for some burgers?"

"Yeah Penny, just getting my shoes on. Oh! I was watching TV earlier, can you switch it off?"

"No prob!" Penny searched for the remote, while Bolt eagerly sat waiting in front of the door, not wanting to be left behind. He loved when the family went out to eat; Penny always ordered something special for him, like a patty, or a couple extra sausage links, just something wondrous! Just thinking about it made his mouth water…

While Bolt daydreamed about which delectable meat morsel he was going to be surprised with, Penny continued her endeavor to find the remote control. She scanned the sofa, shelves, and television itself, before finally spotting it on the counter. "Dad, please leave the remote where I can find-" As she turned to switch the set off, she caught a glimpse of the news headlines. Shocked, she re-read it to confirm its content "Dad! Come here! Quick!"

Interrupted by the sudden alarm in Penny's voice, Bolt snapped out of his food trance and trotted over to her side. She was staring at the television in wide-eyed shock. Following her gaze, Bolt saw the headlines:

GHASTLY MURDER IN DOWNTOWN

SECOND SUPER DOG?

POLICE BAFFLED BY CLOWN'S THREATS

What was going on? Bolt wondered.

Hopping down the hallway, one shoe dangling off his foot, Richard came in. "What's the matter?" Penny directed her father to the screen, and his eyes moved accordingly. The anchors cut to a clip: a man and a dog, tied together and dangling from a rope, being lowered from their place atop the DPS. "Penny…" her father spoke softly, "turn up the volume." The girl obliged.

"….have released footage found concealed on the bodies. Sensitive viewers, be warned: the clip is disturbing."

The station then switched to the video, which showed a man with red hair, a dark-brown beanie, and an olive green coat tied up in a chair. Beside him was a white medium terrier with grey paws and brown splotches on his back and head, leashed tightly to the same chair. Both of their faces were contorted in absolute terror.

"Tell them your name…" the voice came from behind the camera, a smooth, yet sinister sounding voice.

The man stammered "I-uh, I-I-I, uh, I'm, uh, my-my name is, uh, F-uh, it's F-"

A malicious chuckle silenced him. "And tell me," the voice continued, "is this the real super-dog?"

"N-no."

"No?"

"No…"

"No?! Then why is it dressed up like him!?" the speaker demanded angrily as it jumped towards the dog and pushed him down onto his side, revealing a spray-painted black lightning mark on his fur. Another mocking giggle at the animal's renewed fright.

"He-he's a symbol! Yeah, a symbol that we don't have to fear scum like you!"

"Yeah?" A purple-sleeved arm and a similarly-colored glove lashed out and grabbed the side of the man's head, "Well, you do, my friend!" The voice grew furious "You really do! Huh? Yeah…" The man whimpered in dread, and the voice suddenly became mockingly comforting, "Oh, shush shush shush shush shush." The glove gently stroked his cheek, then slapped it. "So, you think the super-dog's made Highton a better place, hm?" The camera drew back, and the man glanced away in fear.

"Look at me," the voice requested. The man did not move.

"LOOK AT ME!"

The man flinched, then slowly, dreadfully, glared at the voice. Suddenly, the camera turned around to reveal the speaker: a clown wearing white face paint, but with black eye shadow, green hair, and- Bolt shivered when he realized it- red highlighted scars along his lips. The demented clown addressed the camera, addressed the city, addressed Bolt:

"See, this is how CRAZY the super-dog's made Highton! You want order in Highton? The dog must give himself up, to me, without a fight…"

Then, as an afterthought:

"Oh, and every day he doesn't, people will die…starting tonight…I'm a man of my word…"

Then the clown laughed; an absolutely insane laugh that echoed through the apartment, throughout the city. Penny's father edged over to hug and comfort his daughter as terrified screams and yelps of pain sounded from the man and his dog, mixing with the demonic cackling. Bolt continued to stare wide-eyed and petrified at the screen.

What was he up against now?


	10. The First Night

"Dad, we just can't go!" Penny pleaded with her father, using every argument she had at her disposal to keep him in the apartment.

"I told you, I have no choice. Jon arranged this meet-and-greet specifically to help me get oriented at work, and he was kind enough to invite you as well. If we don't show up, it will reflect badly on us, especially me."

"Fine then, let it reflect on us! You can't make me go out there with the Joker running around, you heard him on the television!" Penny grew more and more exasperated.

"Look, I've explained this already. It's very simple," Penny's father clutched her shoulders and faced her very intently, "there are millions of people in this city. The odds of us being a target his first night out are slim to none, he's probably gunning for a drug addict or someone easy like that. And that's assuming he was sincere in his threat. More than likely it was a sick joke or some diseased maniac making trouble. He's probably being apprehended as we speak."

Penny took a deep breath in. "Dad, a man and a dog are already dead. It's not a joke."

An excellent point, her father thought. Rallying his thoughts, he attempted to counter, "Alright, you got me, but there's still no need to worry. We're going to be fine. A penthouse was rented out for the party, so it's secure. On top of that, the police chief was invited, so the head of Highton's law enforcement is going to be there. If anything, it'd be safer to go there then to stay in our apartment."

Penny refused to look her father in the eyes, but he could see that her mind was starting to shift. "Fine, I'll get my dress."

"Thank you, Penny." Her father gave her a hug, then watched her go to prepare her outfit. As she closed the door to her room, he looked over at Bolt, who had been lying on the sofa witnessing the whole exchange. The dog looked back for a moment before settling his head between his paws. Richard quickly moved to his room to put on his formal suit, leaving Bolt to his thoughts.

The clown.

That was the image that swam before all others in Bolt's mind.

The demand for the surrender of the super-dog.

The man with the green coat, screaming in terror.

The white and brown terrier, yelping in pain.

And there were going to be more victims before next morning.

Bolt still turned the issue over and over in his mind. The Joker had said he would be starting to kill tonight, but maybe he wouldn't. There always that chance.

But he had already killed, so it was almost definitely not a bluff.

Then again, maybe it was just a lone murder, and the Joker had no intention of continuing.

What if he did, though?

Bolt grumbled and shook his head, clearing away the endless debate he was conducting against himself. His mind turned to what he was going to do about it. Right off the bat, Bolt knew he would have the advantage when he confronted the Joker. A super-powered dog versus a normal human…It wasn't hard to figure out. The problem was, he didn't know where the Joker was! Perhaps if he tried to fake his own surrender, he could trick the clown into revealing himself. As he thought the plan over, though, Bolt decided it was too risky. The Joker would almost definitely come armed, and if Bolt tried to make a move, he would end up with a bullet between his eyes. He needed the element of surprise if he hoped to catch the clown. For the moment, though, there was little he could do.

Except what his instincts told him to do: protect. And right now, a whole city needed protection.

Superhero time.

Bolt jumped off the couch and scratched at Penny's door. She peeked her head out and, not seeing her father, looked down to see her dog pawing his side again. A few minutes later, Bolt's lightning mark blazed forth upon his side. He clambered out onto the fire escape on the side of the building and, after surveying the skyline around him, leapt onto the rooftop across the street.

Penny stared out the window after him. Little over a year ago, if anyone had told her she would be watching Bolt do this, she would have had them committed to a mental institution.

"Penny, finish getting ready!" her father called from his room, "We have to go soon, or we'll be late!"

* * *

Bolt perched atop the high-rise that overlooked the heart of downtown. Grand Avenue, running north and south, intersected Central Avenue, which ran northwest to southeast, and the junction had blossomed into a light show: Lasseter Square. Large screens glowed with the latest headlines, and elaborate neon displays advertised everything from sodas to musicals. High-end restaurants and lavish shops lined the streets, which buzzed with pedestrians and cars. As Bolt looked down over the hundreds of vehicles passing through, he stared carefully into each individual automobile to see if he could find anyone of interest, either Calico's men or the Joker himself.

A red-haired woman and her children waiting for the light to turn. No.

An old dark-skinned man talking on an earbud while driving down the road. No.

A teenage couple pulled over by the sidewalk, wrapped up in each other's embrace. Slightly gross, but still no.

"Help! Help!" The scream came from behind, in the alley beside the high-rise. Bolt jerked around to face the cry. Well…the clown and the doctor could wait. Something more urgent called. Sprinting across the rooftop, Bolt looked down on a group of four people, three men and a woman.

Two of the men had the woman pinned against the wall by her shoulders, rendering her struggling ineffective. The third was standing in front of the woman to address her, a red leather purse in his right hand and a large knife in his left.

"Shut up, you little bitch. If I see anyone trying to interfere, I'll ram this blade straight through you. We'll just be a minute, we gotta get somewhere soon, then you can go. Now, hush while I see what you can offer us for our precious time." He cradled the purse in his left arm and began rummaging through it. "Mints, those will be nice for later," he pocketed the small box, "house keys, shit," he tossed them aside, "car key, find that baby later," pocketed, "oh, and the wallet! Kevin, here ya go." He tossed it to his cohort. "And speaking of which, Kevin, weren't you feeling a little lonely earlier?"

"Yeah, real lonely! Here lady, you can feel it!" He grabbed the woman's arms and whirled her around to face him, prompting her to renew her struggle.

"No, stay away from me! You stay back!"

"Hey, I said shut up!" The knife rose. "We're almost done, so Kevin's gonna be real quick, and then you can get the hell away-"

_THWOOM_ The ground shook, and the knife clattered aside as the assailant was floored by a white blur from above. Kevin and the third accomplice whipped around to see what had happened to their leader, giving the woman a chance to stumble away. A vicious snarl emanated from the newcomer.

"What the hell is it?!"

"Shit, it's the sup-" Kevin was cut off as Bolt leapt, twisted, and kicked him hard in the stomach, using the man as a springboard to leap onto the last mugger. The man yelled and tried pulling out a knife of his own. Bolt had him on the ground in a heartbeat, though. The mugger's blade clattered out of reach, leaving the perpetrator nothing to do but stare right in the eyes of the dog that pinned him down. The man trembled in fear as Bolt glared back and growled again, a deep menacing growl that offered no promise of mercy or leniency.

"Sh-sh-sh-shit…."

Bolt leapt to the side and grabbed the man by the shirt collar, then whirled him around before throwing him into the side of a dumpster. The thug yelled out as his back slammed into the metal wall. He grabbed his ribs, gave a few wheezing breaths, and finally passed out from the pain. Bolt looked back at Kevin, who was doubled over on the ground. All three muggers had been dealt with.

Bolt turned to see the woman who the men had been attacking. She was cautiously getting back on her feet, her eyes wide at the sight of the famed super-dog. The woman watched as the dog turned back to Kevin and trotted over to the motionless man. The dog was sniffing him, climbing atop the body to nudge the jacket open. He seemed to be looking for something…suddenly, he bit at the right chest pocket of the man's jacket. Placing his paws to hold down the rest of the jacket, the super-dog ripped the cloth piece right off. The woman backed away, slightly alarmed by the behavior. The dog began walking towards her, the cloth still in his mouth, and she backed away even further.

Seeing the fear in the woman's eyes, Bolt realized he was frightening her, which he supposed was expectable. He gently tossed her the pocket, which landed with a soft clap by her feet. The woman didn't break eye contact with him, but she slowly bent down to pick up the cloth. As she did, she felt the bulk inside. Surprised, the woman glanced down at the pocket and reached inside.

She pulled out her wallet.

Shocked by the dog's kindness and intelligence, the woman looked back up at him. Bolt stood staring back, hoping she would understand his efforts.

"Thank you, super-dog."

She understood.

The woman began walking back out of the alley. As she passed Bolt, she paused to cautiously give him a quick scratch behind the ears in thanks. She stepped over the immobilized thugs, then sped up her gait as she headed home.

After watching her go, Bolt decided his work was done here. He strolled past the unconscious thugs looking for another rooftop to jump to.

As he passed by Kevin, though, something caught Bolt's eye.

When he had torn off the man's coat pocket, he had exposed the shirt underneath, which also had a pocket. Within the shirt pocket were a number of photographs, each folded in half. Curious, Bolt gently took them between his teeth and pulled them out onto the ground. He then spent a full minute trying to open the pictures, frustrated by his possession of large clumsy paws instead of nimble fingers. As he finally managed to open each photograph though, his frustration gave way to confusion, then realization, then alarm.

There were three photos, each of a single person. One was a large, rotund man with a bristling mustache; Bolt could not identify him. The other two, though, Bolt recognized.

There was a picture of Jon.

And there was a picture of Harry, the man Bolt had rescued.

And all three faces were adorned with a red crayon smile.


	11. Banquets and Bombs

The penthouse meet-and-greet was a smashing success. Penny and her father certainly met and greeted dozens of new faces. The AidMed executives and scientists, Richard's new colleagues, offered only warm receptions. Waiters weaved their way through the crowds bearing trays stocked with hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Penny left her father's side to chase down a platter of deviled eggs, leaving him to talk to the colored man in the tuxedo.

"So, you're a personal friend of Jon as well? I'm Richard Forrester," he shook the man's hand.

"Morgan Thompson. Nice to meet you." He flashed a genial grin. "Yeah, Jon and I both worked as fry cooks in the same restaurant some time back, and we kept in touch. And hey, he turned out a bigwig, I turned out a cop, so we both turned out okay! He invites me and the chief to these events. Gets us out of the station for some much-needed socializing."

"Say, where is the chief anyway? I had heard he was here."

"Carls?" Thompson turned, scanned the room for a few seconds, then pointed at a stubby man helping himself to the buffet. "Him, with the large mustache and larger stomach."

Chief Carls turned around the next moment to find Thompson and Richard both snickering at some secret joke between each other. He plodded his way back with a heaping plate of food in his hands. "Hey, you two, what's so funny?"

Thompson turned back to Richard, still smirking. "Nothing, Chief. Nothing at all."

Carls gave him a suspicious glare, but dropped the subject. He also turned to Richard. "Mr. Forrester, I presume then?"

"That's right, sir. Nice to meet you." Yet another handshake. "I'm glad you could take time off from your busy schedule to stop by."

The chief snorted. "Ah, no big deal! Hell, we got no mafia scumbags or any of that big-time crap around Highton. Too damn scared of us, that's what they are." He took a small croissant sandwich off his plate and bit into it.

Richard tilted his head, confused. "So, the recent murder isn't a big deal, then?"

The chief shook his head, trying to chew his food. "Ah, that's nothing. Every city has its crazies. That guy's going to be in a cell by morning, mark my words!" Another bite of his sandwich.

Thompson stepped in. "Don't worry too much, Richard. We're doing everything we can to stop this Joker guy. All of our patrolmen are on high alert, so no one's going to die tonight." He stopped a server passing by for a couple of champagne glasses, and handed one to Richard. "Well, welcome to the city!" With a smile, he raised his glass to offer a toast. Richard accepted, and they both drank to good health.

Penny watched the exchange taking place, but couldn't hear it. The whole place was inundated with commotion; it was very hard to even hear herself! Plus, it was beginning to feel stuffy. She decided to get some fresh air in the main hallway which connected to the ballroom, where the telephone area was. Helping herself to a spare chair in the hall, Penny thought about Bolt, and what he was doing. Probably taking on thugs right now, maybe even the Joker himself! Penny hoped he was. Despite her father's pacifying remarks at home, and the noticeable lack of clowns at the event, she remained cautious.

As Penny dabbled around in her thoughts, a telephone beside her rang. A server answered, exchanged a few brief words, then dashed into the ballroom, shouting a name. A few minutes later, the man her father had been talking to emerged from the crowd, walking to the telephones. Penny perked up to watch him as he took the receiver and answered.

"Chief Carls cannot talk right now. This is Officer Thompson…it came by the station? With the photographs? What did it do after it left them?…Which direction?...Okay, and the photos. Who are they of?...Jesus Christ, two of them are right here with me! Alright, have a patrol stop by to pick up Harry Rosen. I'll keep an eye on the chief and Jon Blythe." Hanging up the receiver, Thompson jogged back inside. Penny stood up, watching him. His tone had seemed worried; something very bad was about to happen. She hurried back to the party.

* * *

A knock sounded on Harry's door. When he opened it, two men stood in the doorway. One flashed a badge, and inquired, "Harry Rosen?" Harry nodded in affirmation. "We're undercover patrol for Highton Police Department. Mr. Rosen, there's been a threat against your life. We want you to come with us to the station to be placed under protective custody."

The restaurateur stared back for a second, before stuttering back to life. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sure. Can you hold on a second? I want to get some stuff together if I'm going to be stuck there for a while."

"Mr. Rosen, this is a matter of life and death. It is extremely important that you come with us immediately."

"Oh, fine. Very well." Harry made to come through the door.

"Hold on, grab your keys. We believe not having you in the squad car will decrease suspicion and therefore the likelihood of attacks. You'll follow us in your own vehicle."

* * *

After Carls sent Thompson for the phone and then left to make a second run at the food buffet, Richard was left alone. Scanning the crowd, he caught sight of Jon approaching him.

"Hey Jon, thanks for the party." He took a sip from his glass. "Pretty nice, being able to organize one of these things, eh?"

"One of the perks of being a higher-up, Richie." Jon chuckled, then glanced over at the chief. "Seems like tonight was a winner with everyone."

As the two watched, a server offered Carls the very last sandwich on his platter, which the chief gratefully accepted, then began to devour. Jon remained quiet for a second, then took Richard by the shoulder and began to lead him to the fringes of activity. "Richie, I've seen the reports on TV. About…" He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, "_your dog_."

Richard looked away. He knew this was coming. "I had nothing to do with that. If you have a problem, take it up with Penny. It's her and Bolt that-"

"Can I finish, please?" Richard looked at Jon's face. He actually didn't seem upset. "Richie, I know we talked about this before, and I'm cool with it. I may not like it, and I don't, but Bolt's not my dog." He clapped Richard on the shoulder. "Just be careful my friend." Jon smiled, then abruptly switched topics: "Man, I'm bushed tonight. I think I'm going to quietly bow out and leave you all to your festivities." He began walking towards the back exit.

"You're leaving?" Richard followed for a few steps, prompting the escaping host to pause. "Jon, you threw this party! You're expected to say something, or at least stay for the whole thing."

"I don't like public speaking, Richie."

"Oh please, in college you wouldn't stop talking! If there was a soapbox, you could find a topic and preach about it."

Jon simply smirked and shrugged. "Sorry, just wanna get home. You enjoy yourself, okay?" He turned again and kept walking. Richard simply shook his head and chuckled, watching his friend go until he was out the door. It was a losing battle. When Jon decided something, he stuck to it. If he was tired, he was tired. End of story.

Richard turned to look for more people to talk to, and found himself face to face with Thompson. "Richard," the man panted, "Where…is Jon?"

"He just left the party, why?"

"Shit, gotta catch him! Keep your eyes open!" He began to desperately stagger through the guests, trying to reach the rear exit. Richard stared after him, confused. Keep his eyes open for…what?

At that moment, a scream sounded behind him. Both he and Thompson whipped around to see the commotion.

* * *

Harry got into his car and fumbled with his keys. Damn Calico; the doctor was probably why he was being moved right now. All he wanted was to be left alone to run his coffee shop, and that madman's cronies kept pestering him. Harry kept grumbling to himself as he watched the two men in the car in front of him pull out into the street. He turned the key in his ignition.

The engine turned over.

And a colossal fireball erupted from the undercarriage.

Harry felt only a split second of heat, only saw a split second of light. His car lurched up into the air, bounced on its front end, and crashed back onto the street. The two phony cops kept driving, only briefly glancing back in the mirrors.

As the HPD patrol arrived, the car's upholstery was still aflame, and around the vehicle rained playing cards. Joker cards, delivering one final laugh to the dead restaurateur.

* * *

Carls was grabbing his throat, gurgling out unintelligible syllables. He stumbled around, searching for someone, grabbing at anyone to help him. A frantic crowd began forming around him, and a server caught the man and gently began easing him to the floor, attempting to soothe him.

Richard bent down to pick up a half-eaten sandwich, the one the chief had been handed by the waiter. When he removed the bun, he gasped. "Morgan! Look!" He showed the officer the sandwich, which was covered in broken glass. Thompson looked from it to Carls, then the crowd. He immediately took charge, yelling to be heard over the frantic mob.

"Folks, stand back! Give the chief some air! Now, nobody eat any more food or have any more drinks at this party!"

As the officer continued trying to comfort the frenzied partygoers, the server knelt beside Carls, who was still gasping for air through his sliced windpipe. "There, there, Chief, it'll be alright. You'll be fine." The server reached into his apron and held something to the man's rasping throat. "And the boss says hi." He fired his pistol, sending a single bullet through the chief's jaw into his skull.

The gunfire renewed the agitation, sending panic in rolling waves through the crowd. Suddenly, all around them the servers were throwing down their platters and pulling out handguns. Carts were turned over to grab rifles, hidden under piles of napkins and silverware. Amidst all the chaos, few noticed the group of five who enter the room: four thugs armed with assault rifles, led by none other than the Joker himself, bearing a shotgun. "We made it!" he announced to his entourage, and fired into the air to get everyone's attention.

* * *

Bolt was racing across the rooftops, desperately trying to find the party. He remembered Penny's dad said it was in a penthouse, so he scanned the tops of the skyscrapers around him, listening carefully to pick up what was going on in each. Bolt had dropped off the photographs already to the police station, and he hoped that the cops had understood what they meant. Right now, he needed to find the banquet. Jon was there, and that meant the Joker or his men would be there.

And Penny was there too.

Bolt kept sprinting, leaping, and listening, desperate to find the right building. He only hoped he wasn't too late.


	12. Party Crashers

_BOOM_

The deafening blast of the shotgun quickly caught the attention of everyone at the party. Everyone began moving to the sides of the room, allowing the servers-turned-thugs to congregate in the center and clear a walking space for their boss.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman." The Joker casually strolled into the room, as if he were just another guest. "We are tonight's entertainment!" Wandering up to the dead police chief, he nudged the body with his foot, then gave it a vicious kick. No response, of course. Looking around for a second body, the Joker called out, "I must bother you all for one detail: where is Jonathan Blythe?"

He paused for an answer from his henchmen; nothing. His eyes pierced through the sea of terrified faces, looking for one more terrified than the others. Jon was nowhere to be seen. The Joker sauntered up to the edge of the crowd, brandishing his shotgun, searching. Without warning, he grabbed a champagne glass out of a girl's hand, emptied it, took a sip of…nothingness, then handed it back to a man five people down. He started slapping people he passed by.

"You know where Jonny is?" A frightened headshake back from the man with the glasses.

"You know where he is?" Another headshake from the blond girl, who shrank back into the ocean of people.

"Hey," the Joker grabbed the bald man's mouth, squeezing the cheeks in his hand, "You know where I can find Jonathan? I gotta talk to him 'bout something, just somethin' little, huh?" He forced the head to roll back and forth in his hand, before turning away. "No."

He walked up to Penny's father. "Know what," grabbing an olive from a nearby snack platter and scarfing it down, "I'll settle for his loved ones."

Richard attempted to mask his fear, and boldly countered, "We're not intimidated by thugs like you!"

The Joker paused, and narrowed his eyes at this brash outburst, almost as if he seemed puzzled. "You know," he said, setting down his shotgun on the table beside him, "you remind me of my brother…" Richard looked around, confused as how to respond. Suddenly, the Joker grabbed him by the back of his neck and pressed a knife against his cheek. "I HATED MY BROTHER!" Richard's eyes dilated as he gasped in shock.

"Daddy!"

The voice prompted the Joker to pause. Quietly annoyed at being interrupted, he turned to face the disturbance. He spotted a young teenage girl, with short brown hair, stepping into the empty space. Releasing the man, who was forced back into the crowd by the thugs, the Joker stared at the girl, and began to advance towards her.

"Well, hello, sweetie-pie!" The Joker mockingly waved at Penny, and used a condescending tone like one may use towards a child. "So you're Mr. Sour-Puss's daughter, hm? A little angel like yourself?" Coming up close to the teenager, the Joker circled about her, knife still in his hand. Penny tried to look brave, but still kept carefully an eye on the clown as he moved. He stopped in front of her and looked her in the eyes. "Oh, you look nervous, honey. Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got 'em?" He nodded, almost to confirm, then reached out, clutched the back of Penny's neck, then rested the cold steel of the blade against her cheek. She tried to jerk her face away, but the Joker kept pulling her back as he wove his yarn.

"So, I had a daughter once. She was adorable, like you. A good girl, who used to listen to Daddy. A passionate girl, who followed her heart. A stupid girl, who runs off and marries a wife-beater. Hey…" Penny had been trying to wrest her face away again, so the Joker grabbed the side of her head and forced her to look him in the eye. "One day he cuts her face. She just barely escapes with her life, but we have no money for surgeries. She can't stand it…I just wanted to see my little girl smile again, hm? I just wanted to show her that Daddy doesn't care about scars! So…" Again, Penny had to be forced back into position, the blade still scraping against her face, "I stick a razor in my mouth and do this," the Joker tilted his head to display his Glasgow grin, "to myself. And you know what?" he grew visibly agitated, "She can't stand the sight of me! She runs off again …oh, but now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling!"

Suddenly, Penny jabbed the Joker in the stomach, and shoved away from him. He stepped back and doubled over, but kept eye contact, and only lightly chuckled. "Oh, you got a little fight in you! Just like she did…"

Without warning, there was the sound of crashing glass from above, and angry barking echoed into the room. A white blur fell from the windowed roof onto a henchman, slamming him into the floor. The Joker whirled around to face the newcomer, and Penny's face broke into a grin; Bolt was here to save her!

The dog promptly went to work, leaping to and from thugs. Bolt alternated focused his powers between his paws for jumping and kicking, and his jaws for biting and throwing. However, whereas he had faced only one foe in the store standoff, or three in the alleyway less than an hour ago, he was now up against ten enemies, and despite his powers, they were able to swarm him. He felt fingers grab his collar and found himself held down by a floored thug. The Joker came up and kicked Bolt in his side, prompting a yelp. Glancing over, he saw the Joker stamp his foot on the ground, triggering a knife in the toe of his shoe to extend! Quickly, Bolt closed his eyes and focused all his power onto his side. He imagined it growing harder, more solid, more durable…

Bolt felt the knife point, which promptly deflected off. The Joker yelled out, both in pain and at the fact he had just stubbed his toe on a dog. Stumbling away, he looked for a way out, any way out. Spotting a pistol, he crawled over and grabbed it.

Meanwhile, Bolt was dispatching the last few thugs, throwing them into the ground. Turning to finish off the Joker, he saw the clown holding Penny by a large window.

With a gun forced under her neck.

Fear rose up inside Bolt. He couldn't disarm the clown; if he lasered the gun, he might end up hitting Penny too. Bolt had no idea what to do next. However, he promptly converted his uncertainty into anger. He growled a warning to the Joker.

"Oh, little Rover doesn't like it when I play rough with the kiddies, hm?" Laughing, the Joker raised the pistol up above his head and fired into the pane of glass behind him, shattering it. He took a few steps back towards it, then teasingly began holding Penny half out the window.

"Let her go!" Richard suddenly called out from the crowd. The Joker looked over at him, and slowly, mockingly, narrowed his eyes.

"...anything you say, Daddy." Then, with a cackle, he tossed Penny out of the twenty-story-high penthouse.

Bolt reacted instinctively. He sprinted past the Joker and out the windowpane himself. Luckily, the window didn't open up onto a straight fall. The roof sloped steeply before becoming a vertical drop. Still, Penny was sliding towards the edge, screaming. "Help! Hurry, boy!" Bolt ran over to her and quickly nuzzled under her arms, prompting her to hug his neck tightly. He then tried running back up the roof, but even with his paw pads, the glass underfoot proved too slippery.

Of all powers, Bolt thought, why can't I have super-traction or something?!

Penny looked back and renewed her yelling. Bolt turned in time to see themselves going over the edge of the roof. Suddenly, he had an idea. He twisted himself to face Penny and wrapped his legs around her, like a hug. Then, as they fell, Bolt closed his eyes, tried everything possible to make sure he was on the bottom, and concentrated all his power on his back.

A shield again, he thought, do what you did last time, come on…

The rushing wind, Penny's screaming, all drowned out. Never had Bolt concentrated on something so hard in his life.

_CRISH_

The sound of crumpling metal woke Bolt from his trance. Opening his eyes, he saw that they had landed on the hood of a taxi, crushing the hood and likely ruining the engine. However, Penny was okay; shaken, but alive. Releasing her from his hug, Bolt stood on the crushed hood of the car, while Penny slowly eased into a sitting position. He walked up to her, whimpering in concern.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Quick thinking, Bol - uh, super-dog…" A crowd of people had started to gather, curious at the spectacle. Penny leaned over to give him a hug and to whisper, "Good job, Bolt" in his ear. She winked, then carefully stood up onto the sidewalk.

By the time Bolt got back up to the penthouse, the Joker and his crew had vanished without a trace.


	13. Watch the World Burn

"Jon, not three hours ago you told me that you were okay with Bolt doing this superhero thing."

"Yeah, well, that was before the Joker came around and-" Jon stopped as he saw his wife and children enter the apartment. Penny and the three animals, all sitting on or by the couch, also looked over.

He embraced Amanda, and the two squeezed each other in a grateful hug. She whispered softly in his ear so that the children couldn't hear, "Oh, thank God you're alive."After a few seconds, the couple let each other go, and Jon forced a smile.

"Alright, kids, I hope you had fun at the arcade, but now it's time for bed." Some moans and groans, and Andrew tried to counter that he was not tired, which he promptly followed up with a big sleepy yawn. Jon led the two younger boys to the restroom to help prepare them for bed, while Elise went into her own room. She paused and looked back at her mother and the two Forresters, before closing the door. As soon as they disappeared inside, Amanda turned to Richard to whisper worriedly.

"Oh Richard, I was so worried about you and Jon and Penny! Are you all okay?"

"A bit shaken, but we're all fine. Jon wasn't even in the room, he left right before the Joker came in. He came right up to me and Penny though."

"Yeah," Penny chipped in, "He came right up to us, and pressed this knife against our faces, and acted just…" She shook her head and clutched her arms, the unpleasant memory still raw in her mind.

Amanda looked at Penny, then back at her father. "You know, if you guys want, you can stay the rest of the night here. I hate to think of you two going back out there on the streets when it's dark out."

"No, I don't think that'd be best for me right now," Richard glanced over at the restroom, where Jon was helping his two sons brush their teeth. "If Penny wants to stay though, she can." She confirmed with a gentle, tired nod. "Alright, go ahead and walk home in the morning. I'll take a cab home." He walked over and gave Penny a kiss on her forehead, then left for home. Amanda closed the door behind him, then decided to prepare for bed herself.

Penny sighed and leaned back on the couch, exhausted from the day's hectic events. Bolt whimpered and put a paw on her lap. She gave a weak smile, and affectionately stroked his head. Mittens and Mindy followed suit; the cat leapt up onto the couch and curled up besides Penny, and the German shepherd sat in front of Penny and rested her chin on the girl's knee. The influx of animal companionship quickly cheered her up, and she stayed that way until she fell asleep.

Finally seeing the girl at peace, the two dogs and the cat gathered together on the floor in the far corner of the room to discuss the night's events. Mittens fired the first question.

"What on earth are you thinking, Bolt?! Playing hero, has your brain shaken loose?"

"Mittens, you don't understand-"

"No, I don't! I thought you were here to live the quiet life, so that Penny would be safe. Then you made a sideshow of yourself at that coffee shop, and now look at what you've done!"

Bolt grew annoyed. "Are you saying that it's my fault the Joker is killing people?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! It wasn't until you came back as 'Superdog' that all this mess started up."

Mindy intervened "Mittens, leave him alone! He did what he felt was right, people would have died if he hadn't acted that day."

"Thank you, Mindy!"

"Oh, you dogs are thick!" Mittens shook her head irritably. "That same man you rescued, Bolt, is dead now anyways! Amanda and Jon leave the television on for us when they go places, so I saw it on the news while Mindy here was chewing on her stupid toy in the other room. And it's only going to get worse."

"Don't worry, I'll stop him."

"Like you did tonight?"

Bolt was angry now. "Well, you aren't doing anything, cat! At least I confronted him tonight, while you were here watching the humans' screen!"

"It's called a television."

"Whatever!" Bolt was growing more and more infuriated, and was standing right over Mittens, trying to physically dominate her. The cat showed no signs of being perturbed though. "My point is, I'm out there doing something!"

"And look what it's brought us."

A bubble of rage rose inside the dog, and he was tempted to grab Mittens and throw her into the wall. It took every ounce of his willpower to resist. "The Joker is not going to stop until I turn myself in, and I am not going to do that. So what do you want me to do, cat?!"

Mittens said nothing, then quietly answered, "Let us help you."

Bolt was taken aback by Mittens' proposal. "What?"

"You heard me. Remember when you met me, I was an assassin working for Calico's cat, Hairballs, trying to kill you, and I almost succeeded. I have training, and experience. And Mindy, while she's not quite as elite, she's still a German shepherd. She can fend for herself easily, and be an extra set of eyes, teeth, or paws where we need it."

"'We'? Hold on…"

"You were just ranting about us not helping. While I would have preferred if you had never started the whole hero gig, you did, and you need to clean up this mess. And quite frankly, I think you are going to need help."

"Yeah." Mindy again cut in. "Bolt, this can be my chance to redeem myself. Even though I couldn't save my first family, I can help save someone else. Please, let me help you."

Bolt looked from Mindy to Mittens, his mind weighing the situation. "Well, a ninja cat and a shepherd dog can't be bad to have as allies, I suppose. You guys sure about this?"

Mindy nodded solemnly, "I am more sure now than I have ever been about anything else."

"And it was my idea, so duh."

Bolt smirked. "Well, I guess we're a team then." He thought a bit, then explained, "Alright, when Penny wakes up, we'll let her know that you guys want to help me. She can offer to take us on daily walks, and that's when she'll let us go to do our thing." Everyone nodded in agreement, and with the night seeming full, they began to settle in for sleep as well. Suddenly, something popped back into Bolt's mind. He turned back to Mittens.

"Mittens, you said I was going to need help. You two working with me will certainly help bring down the Joker faster, but you made it seem like I'd have no chance alone."

"I don't think you understand what you're up against, that's all."

"A murderous madman, that's what. Like when I was facing Calico last year."

"No, they're not the same. Listen," Mittens sat up, "way back when I was working for Hairballs, I was sent on a mission in Venezuela." Both Bolt and Mindy sat up straighter as Mittens told her fable. "Calico was trying to buy the local cartels' loyalty with enormous amounts of cash. But the trucks kept getting raided by a highway robber in a village just west of the capital, and since the Latin American operations were important to Hairballs' plan, he sent me to look for the bandit. He would sneak onto the doctor's computer and look up bank information, searching for anyone who had made sudden, large deposits, while I staked out the village. In five months, though, Hairballs never found any abnormal activity, and I never got any closer to confronting the robber. But one day, as I was sitting on a rooftop, I heard some children playing in the alleyway below me. I looked down, and saw them building a small castle with blocks of money each worth five hundred thousand dollars. The thief had been throwing the money away."

Bolt cocked his head in confusion. "Then why did he steal it?"

"Because he found it fun, he thought of it as a game. See Bolt, some people aren't trying to reach a goal, such as wealth or power like Calico was. They do not think like us, they can't be bought off, intimidated, bargained, or argued with. Some people, just want to watch our world burn."

Bolt said nothing, only gently laid down again. Mittens and Mindy gradually fell asleep, but he couldn't. Those words echoed in his mind, making him wonder what kind of enemy he was facing, and even worse, what facing that enemy would do to himself.

Watch the world burn.

Watch the world burn.

Burn…

Burn…

Burn…

* * *

_There was a faint hiss. Bolt was sealed in the Sequencing Chamber. He heard the clicking noise of someone typing at a keyboard. Suddenly, an alarm began blaring. Peering out the viewing portal, Bolt saw a flashing red alarm light above a sign: ISOLATION. Looking around, he saw Penny's father in a large yellow suit at some big computer, typing out codes on the screen. Abruptly, the man turned around, grasped a lever, and with one final, concerned look at the chamber, threw the switch. _

_A blast of light entered the small space Bolt was confined in. The tendrils of light bounced around the chamber, arching around and through the dog. Bolt felt them dancing across his fur. He felt the presence in his mind, his power, the entity he drew from to perform spectacular and terrible things. _

_Suddenly, a hideous laugh, and a scream, "Bolt, help!"_

_Penny! The Joker had her!_

_Focusing on his head and paws, Bolt dashed into the side of the chamber. He left a huge dent, activating a second alarm. Penny's father recoiled from the machine in terror, fearfully realizing the dog's intention to escape. Another charge, and Bolt burst through the machine. He gave a powerful bark, blasting away the side of the building, and began sprinting towards the cry. _

_Again, a whooping cackle, and "Bolt, help!"_

_Bolt was running, running as fast as he could, but the voices grew no nearer. Everything was dark. All there were, were the voices. _

_"BOLT!"_

_Then screaming._

_And laughing._


	14. Two Nights with the Blythe Family

The morning after the encounter with the Joker, Penny's father called to let her know he was going to be busy, and that she could stay at the Blythes' a couple more days if they allowed, which they did.

That same morning, Bolt, Mindy and Mittens had managed to convey their idea for a team-up to Penny. The girl had woken up early before anyone else, providing an excellent opportunity to maintain secrecy. The animals quickly perked up, and began playing an elaborate, frustrating game of charades.

* * *

"What is it, you guys?" Penny could tell they were saying something important, but she could not tell what.

Mittens had an idea; the cat balanced herself on her two hind legs, and placed one forepaw around each of the dogs' necks, to try to express the idea of "together".

"Alright, I know you guys are friends. Is that what you want to tell me?"

Mittens' eyelids dropped into their half-open "seriously?" glare, and she put all four paws back on the ground. Bolt decided to take center stage. He hoped they could start with the concept of "super-dog". He lifted one front paw up slightly off the ground and raised his snout, trying to assume his best heroic pose.

"Do you smell something, boy? Is that it?"

All three animals groaned. Of all the species in the animal kingdom, why did humans have to be the one that couldn't understand the rest?!

Eventually, though, Penny pieced together the clues, and once Jon and Amanda had awoken, she put the plan into action.

"Hey, um, Mr. and Mrs. Blythe, I was thinking. I know how you take Mittens and Mindy out for walks on the weekends in the park…"

"That's right," Amanda smiled back, "it's a shame they stay cooped up in this apartment so much, and we just want to give them some time to stretch their legs. Even cats have to have some leg room, right?"

"Exactly! I know what you mean, I wouldn't dream of keeping Bolt in our apartment all the time either, which is why I was thinking, I could take the two out for walks every day along with Bolt. I wouldn't even ask for money, I'd be happy to do it. After all, I love animals."

"Why, thank you! That's so nice to offer. Aren't you worried, though, about your safety?"

"I'll have two shepherd dogs with me, I think I'll be okay."

Amanda laughed, "True, true. Just make sure to stick to the safest areas, and try to be back before dark. Jon, what do you think?"

Jon sat there, resting his head between his forefinger and thumb in a signature thinking pose. He stared into Penny's eyes with a suspicious look, glanced over at Bolt in the other room, then back. "I don't know," he slowly started, "like you said, Amanda, it's rather dangerous out there."

"Oh honey, come on. Not only will she have the two dogs, the super-dog is out there too!"

Jon glanced again at Bolt. "Yes, the super-dog…" The dog was laying down, and little Andrew was using him as a pillow. Both were watching the morning cartoons along with Henry, Mittens, and Mindy. He seemed so docile, so friendly. Jon could hardly believe this dog possessed nearly god-like powers. He shuddered internally as he saw how close his children were to Bolt. If only his wife knew…but he couldn't tell her. The last thing the household needed was two people worried sick.

"Jon, honey?" Amanda called him back to the conversation.

"Hm? Yes, sorry…" Jon shook his head. "Well, Penny, if you really feel up to it, and as long as you stay safe, I'm with Amanda here."

At that moment, Elise finally emerged from her bedroom. Penny thanked the two adults, and went to visit with her friend. The daylight slipped past without remarkable incident, as did the planned walk. Penny waited in an alley by the park while the animals roamed around the city, looking for any sign of trouble. Other than a couple foiled purse-snatchings, though, nothing was to be found. The trio returned to Penny after an hour, and after Bolt's dye was reapplied, the group returned home just as bedtime rolled around again.

That night, a bus driver was found dead, floating in a mall fountain, his face carved into a smile.

* * *

_Dale a tu cuerpo alegria Macarena_

_Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegria cosa buena_

_Dale a tu cuerpo alegria, Macarena_

_Hey Macarena!_

The song danced from a little radio on the kitchen counter, and Jon's head bopped along with it while he prepared pancakes. Wearing a bright red apron, he poured the mix onto the griddle, where it sizzled satisfyingly. Jon grabbed his spatula as he waited for the cakes to cook and started to sway along with the music, even taking the chance to sing along to a few lines. "Aaaaaayy, Macarena…"

In the living room, Penny and Elise were sitting at the computer browsing through videos online. The animals and kids were watching cartoons again, and Amanda was reading the latest bestseller in her chair.

"Alright, first batch done! Get 'em before I eat 'em myself!" Jon placed a large platter on the counter, stacked high with the steaming hotcakes. Everyone grabbed a plate and helped themselves, while Jon began pouring more batter onto the griddle. "I'll start on bacon and sausage in a minute."

"Hey, Bolt," Mindy nudged him, "Check this out." She and Mittens led Bolt up to Jon. "Now watch!"

She gave a small yelp, getting the man's attention. He turned and grinned down at the trio. "Don't worry, I didn't forget you guys." He picked up a small dish on the counter which held three small cakes. "You know the rules though, you gotta work for it."

Mittens whispered, "Just do something interesting, doesn't have to be much." The cat stood on her hind legs and placed her front paws in front of her chest, assuming the famous dog-begging pose.

"One for Mittens, then!" Jon handed her the smallest cake, which she took in her mouth and walked away with. "Mindy, would you care to follow up?"

The German shepherd turned to Bolt. "Watch this, I'm going to 'talk'." She turned back and barked three times.

" 'Pancake please?' Why, of course!" And so the second cake was rewarded to Mindy, leaving just one left. Jon looked down at Bolt, and Bolt looked back expectantly. Jon paused for a second, then said, "Sorry Bolt, but the rule's the same for guests. Got a trick for me?"

Bolt cocked his head as he thought; what could he do? Within normal boundaries of course. Deciding on a trick he considered rather mundane, but humans apparently found classic, he lifted his left paw up for a handshake.

Jon smiled and accepted the offer. "Good deal, then!" He offered the last hotcake, which Bolt gratefully accepted. Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, Jon ruffled the top of the dog's head, just like when they first met. "Yeah, you're a good boy, aren't you big guy?" He watched Bolt go lie down with Mindy and Mittens as they all enjoyed their little meal together. "Oh, and you three stop by again when the meat's ready!"

After breakfast concluded, Jon joined his family in the living room. "Here, Andrew, Henry," their mother urged them, "let your father watch a bit of news, alright? You can do without cartoons for a while." Henry groaned and tried to persuade her otherwise, but eventually settled for playing with his toy car. Andrew was more enthusiastic, however, and took the chance to toddle over to Bolt, who was lying down again.

"Puppy!" He stumbled, grabbing the dog's neck for support. Bolt was gentle, and nuzzled the toddler back to a stable point. Andrew wobbled back to a standing position, both of his small hands on Bolt's side. He then began trying to raise his leg over the dog's back, as one might mount a horse.

"Oh, Jon honey, look! Andrew's trying to get a ride."

"Ride!" The child squealed in delight, and began bouncing up and down in expectation. Bolt smirked and rolled his eyes; humans were crazy, especially young humans. But, he appeased Andrew. He carefully edged up onto his paws, and slowly began walking around the room. The kid giggled excitedly, clinging onto the dog's neck. Everyone laughed as Bolt made his way around the room.

Even Jon chuckled softly to himself.

That night, the trio's patrol again turned up nothing. Bolt snuck into the mall where the previous night's body was found, but he uncovered no evidence. Exasperated, they again returned to the Blythes'.

Hours later, a phone call summoned law enforcement to an apartment just off 25th Avenue. Two policemen were found dead, cards in their hands and scars on their mouths.

* * *

The next morning, Penny's father called and, quite urgently, told her to come home. After a quick goodbye to their hosts, Penny and Bolt began the walk back. As they passed by the television store, the screens displayed in the window were showing the news. Penny motioned for her dog to wait as she listened.

"…overlooking the fact that this dog has demonstrated a very altruistic attitude towards this city. You can't honestly advocate that he just stop?"

"If the dog was truly selfless, it would turn itself in. The super-dog has showed us over the past three nights that it cannot stop this terrorist. However noble its original intentions, the super-dog has clearly only provoked the criminal underworld, and unless we want the Joker killings to continue, I maintain that we have to pressure the dog to surrender."

"Well, if you look at these public opinion polls, a majority of those surveyed expressed support for the super-dog. Perhaps we should give him more time, maybe he will bring in the Joker soon enough?"

"Fine, give him another week. When ten more people lie dead by then, we'll see where the public opinion stands."

The debate continued, but Penny couldn't stand to listen anymore. "Come on, boy," she softly whispered, and the two continued back home.


	15. Panic on the Streets

When Penny and Bolt entered their apartment, they were greeted with a mess. Papers were lying all over the couch; case files, printouts from Google Maps, and registries. A very large map was taped up against the wall and covered with marker writing.

"Dad?" Penny called into the apartment.

"In here, Penny!" Her father yelled out from his office. "Don't touch anything in there, just come here!" He was working frantically at his computer, a cup of coffee and a newspaper right beside him on his desk.

"What's the matter, Daddy?"

"Well, it's a good news-bad news situation." Richard suddenly swiveled around in his chair and grabbed the newspaper. "Here's the bad news, in the paper from two days ago, the day after we were attacked at the party." Penny took the folded sheet, which was opened to the obituaries section. The biggest headline read, "Mayor Anthony Garcia, aged 40. Dedicated Public Servant."

"I don't understand, the mayor's not dead…"

"Well, a certain clown apparently plans for him to be."

Penny looked up. "Wait, they're holding a memorial service for the police chief today in the park, aren't they? The mayor's supposed to speak."

"Exactly. It will be the perfect time for the Joker to strike, and when he shows up, we can get him! That's what I've been working on the past couple days." Penny's father turned back to his desk to grab some more papers. "Look at that obituary again, what do you see?"

Penny re-read it. Then something caught her eye. "There's an author's name! 'By Joe Ondrejko'."

"Well, I did a search on the name: nothing. No online profiles, not anything, so I rang up Officer Thompson. I met him that night at the dinner party, and we found that we both share Jon as a mutual friend. Well, I explained what I was up to, he pulled some files for me," he shook the papers in his hand, "and we discovered that it's a recorded alias for Devin Mulligan.

"And, who's Devin Mulligan?"

"That's the best part, it's a man I know! See, before his downfall, Calico had aligned himself with the gangs in the city." Bolt instinctively growled at the doctor's name. "Whenever he needed dirty work done, all he had to do was talk to their leaders. Devin Mulligan was one of them."

"And now the gangs are working for the Joker?"

"Yes, and that also led me to believe that the Joker is working for Calico."

It all made sense! Bolt thought to himself, that's why the clown was after him! The blasted doctor was causing trouble again.

"Now," Penny's father began to wrap up his findings, "Morgan gave me some more old case files, so I went digging for other people who were in the same gang, and look what I found…" He stood up and went back into the main room, where the map was. Searching for his mark, he finally jabbed at a black X drawn over a building. "1502 Randolph Apartments. Occupied by Melvin White, an illegal arms dealer. The apartment opens up right over the park, and provides an excellent view of where the memorial service is. That's a perfect place to put a sniper, and the Joker will be there himself!"

"Oh, Daddy, you're a genius!" Penny broke into a huge grin and hugged him.

"Well, after I genetically modified your dog, I had hoped you would realize that."

Penny gave him a gentle playful punch in the arm. "I needed more proof, that was all."

"Anyway, enough fooling, you better get ready to go!" Richard began digging through his papers to find the directions he had printed out to the apartment.

"Alright, I'll just stop by the Blythes' again real quick to pick up Bolt's sidekicks."

Richard paused, and looked up confused. "His sidekicks?!"

* * *

The entire police force of Highton was dressed in their formal blue uniforms. Hundreds of officers marched down Grand Avenue, while bagpipes and drums droned out "Balmoral". Leading the procession was Mayor Garcia, accompanied by his assistant and his cabinet. The day was unusually cold, so the mayor and his entourage all wore black scarves around their faces, with matching black jackets. The mournful parade crawled down the street to the park, where a podium was set up for the mayor to deliver what could very well be his last speech.

Morgan Thompson was responsible for making sure it wasn't. Since the head of Highton's law enforcement lay dead, he was given temporary command. And he did not plan to fail today. Snipers were positioned along the nearby rooftops and on the fire escapes, and every officer was under orders to apprehend the Joker on sight, using deadly force if necessary. Still, Morgan wasn't soothed. He kept searching the buildings' facades, searching the crowds lining the sidewalks, searching for even the slightest hint of the now-infamous purple suit and white, black, and red face. He radioed to his team, "See anything?"

"We're tight up here, but quite frankly, we have a lot of windows and a lot of people."

Comforting words, Morgan thought. So comforting.

* * *

In the alleyway beside Randolph Apartments, Penny was giving Bolt, Mittens, and Mindy a briefing of sorts. The parade was just arriving at the park, and the mayor was preparing to speak.

"Guys, this could get dangerous, so I'm not going with you. Meet me back at…" she turned to see down the street. "That burger joint, over there, I'll sit outside. Mittens, come meow at me when you're done, and I'll follow you to meet the others, alright?" The cat nodded. "Good! Now, Bolt, come here." Penny produced two water bottles and some soap from her bag. Seconds later, the lightning mark was revealed in all its glory. "Good luck, guys!" And with that, Penny jogged down the street, leaving the three animals to their own devices.

"This it, you two." Bolt turned to address his…well, his coworkers, he supposed. "This is where we stop the Joker. Mittens," the cat sat up a little straighter, "see that tree just beside the mayor? Climb up there and watch this building. If we don't reach the Joker in time, and you see him about to shoot, you have to jump on the mayor and get him out of the way."

"Will do!" And with that, the cat darted across the street.

"Mindy, come with me. You're going to have to help me."

The German shepherd gulped. "You mean, to catch the Joker?"

"It's alright, you'll be fine. We'll surround him, he won't have a chance. Ready?"

Mindy hesitated, but nodded. And with that, the two dogs entered the building, located a staircase, and began climbing to the fifteenth floor. The whole way up, they encountered no people at all. Within minutes, they were in front of apartment 1502.

"How do we get in?" Mindy hadn't thought about the fact that neither one of them could turn a doorknob, much less unlock a door.

"Simple." Bolt stood and placed his front paws on the door. Focusing his power, he pushed, and quite easily forced the deadbolt through the doorjamb. The force was so great, it also ripped the hinge screws out of their places, and the whole door fell over with a crash. Mindy stepped back in surprise. Bolt, standing on top of the now-floored door, looked back with a smile. "One of the many benefits of super-strength, you never need a key."

"Mmm! Mmf, mmmmhmmmm!" The sound of muffled yelling came from the other room. Both dogs' ears snapped forward to an alert position, and they proceeded cautiously down the hallway.

The whole space was bare. There was no furniture in sight, no wallpaper or carpet or tile at all. As they edged open the door to the room, they spotted a window with the cover drawn down, with some small mechanism attached. A cooking timer on the window sill ticked down the seconds.

TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC

A telescope pointed down and out the window, like someone had been watching something on the street. In front of the setup was a small chair, on which a man was tied up.

* * *

"Chief Carls was devoted to his job, and to the protection and safety of his community…"

Mittens clawed her way to the end of the branch. She was just a few feet behind the mayor, and ten feet above. Now all she had to do was watch for trouble. She looked to the building, counted fifteen floors up, and scanned the row of windows over and over. Not a single person in sight.

"I remember a year ago, when we tackled one of the hardest cases our city ever faced, Carls chased down the components of Calico Industries across state lines and even into Mexico, providing valuable evidence against their crimes…"

Morgan sat behind and to the left of Mayor Garcia. He was slightly comforted by the fact that every policeman and policewoman in Highton was standing at attention before the podium. Still, he felt something was…off. His eyes continually scanned the audience, the buildings; his gut told him the Joker was ready to strike.

"The techniques Carls used were controversial, some unpopular, but one may argue that they ultimately paid off. He exposed the hotbed of organized crime which lay in our city, and now thanks to him, we may sleep peacefully again…"

Morgan's gut suddenly took a sudden wrenching turn. Something was definitely up. He looked at the people around him. The labor commissioner, inspector general, and deputy chief of staff all sat with their heads bowed. Then, for some reason, his eyes gravitated to the mayor's assistant, sitting directly behind Garcia himself.

* * *

"Mindy, help that man. I'm going to look for the Joker." Bolt began cautiously creeping around the apartment. Mindy walked up to the prisoner in the chair. The timer kept going.

TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC

The man was blindfolded, his arms and legs were tied down, and his mouth was taped over. He had no clothes on save for his underpants. Trying to ease his discomfort, Mindy bit through the rope binding his right hand. His arm jerked up, shook off the rope, then reached to remove the tape.

"Who's there?" the man gasped. "Who's that?"

"Mindy," Bolt sprinted back, "The Joker's not here!" TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC

"Super-dog?" The man heard only barking and growling, but from the crash of the door being forced in, he had a good idea who it was. "What-what's going on?" He removed his blindfold and looked around. "Oh shit…" he stared wide-eyed at the telescope, the window shade, the timer. TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC. He began trying to edge his chair back away from the window. "You got to get to the parade! They jumped me, they have my suit!"

"Bolt, what is he talking about?"

Bolt wondered the same thing himself, but he knew it wasn't something good. He felt a growing fear begin to rise in his throat.

TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC

* * *

"…and as we honor the sacrifice of this man, we must remember that vigilance is the price of safety."

"Stand by, honor guard! Atten-hut! Port arms!" The squad readied their rifles for the twenty-one gun salute. "Ready, aim, fire!" Seven shots rang out.

Morgan kept staring at the mayor's assistant. The man had not said a word the whole day, and had kept to himself. His scarf wrapped around the bottom half of his face, obscuring his mouth. His piercing brown eyes never wandered away from the mayor's back.

"Ready, aim, fire!" Seven more shots rang out.

The Joker wouldn't, Morgan thought to himself. His make-up was his trademark, he wouldn't forgo his war paint. And yet...

"Ready, aim…."

* * *

TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC TICTICTICTIC The man grew desperate as he fiddled with the rope holding down his other hand, still trying to edge away from the window. "Please, get to the parade! The Joker's behind the mayor right now!"

But how could he know…

"I'm the mayor's assistant!"

* * *

"…fire!"

Then chaos.

Back up in the apartment, the timer TICTICTICDING'ed, and the window shade whipped upwards. The police snipers, startled at the sudden movement, fired into the window, the bullets striking where the man had been sitting a minute before. Bolt, Mindy, and the real mayor's assistant all cringed away. The honor guard looked around confusedly, wondering if all those gunshots had belonged to them.

In the middle of the confusion, the fake assistant stood up, pulled a pistol from his pocket, and pointed it at the mayor. He grabbed his scarf away from his neck, revealing a fiendish smile. And a Chelsea grin. The entire cabinet recoiled in shock, some falling backwards in their chairs.

At the same time, Mittens, alarmed at the unexpected gunfire, had leapt from her perch and landed on the mayor's shoulder, forcing him down in shock.

The Joker fired.

PAH-kik

And only hit the podium.

The crowd was truly in a frenzy now. People scrambled past each other to cram into stores and restaurants, trying to get off of the sidewalk. The officers, still reeling from their bewilderment, all sprinted towards the podium, both to catch the Joker and make sure the mayor was okay. The Joker turned to run, but someone grabbed his arm. He turned to see Officer Thompson trying to apprehend him.

"Gotcha, you little son of a bit-"

PAH

The gunshot echoed between the buildings, and the officer fell onto the platform. He grabbed his stomach, which was now bleeding profusely. The Joker jumped down into the crowd of panicked citizens, half of which were wearing the same mournful black he was, and within seconds disappeared.


	16. Sorrow and Fear

The doorbell rang at the Thompson residence. A woman answered the door, praying to see her husband standing on the porch.

Instead, she saw two of his fellow officers, a man and a woman, their hats off and faces long. That could only mean…

"No…" Her face crumpled, and she began to weep. The man held out his arms to comfort her, and she accepted, sobbing on his shoulder.

A small girl cautiously peeked out the door. "Mommy?"

"Antonia, honey, go back inside…" her mother choked out, then continued. The girl took a few steps back, but curiosity and concern drew her out again.

"Shh, it's okay Penelope," the man tried to soothe her crying, but inside he was torn apart as well. Morgan had been a model officer, strong yet pleasant, firm yet kind, a friend to anyone who needed it. And now he lay dead.

"Are you out there?" Penelope called into the street suddenly, her sorrow fermenting into anger. "Can you hear me? You did this to us! You did! You brought this on us!" Her sobbing intensified.

Antonia looked around, clutching her pink teddy bear close. Glancing up at the rooftops, she spotted the silhouette of a dog, black against the fading purple twilight. As she stared, she saw the ears droop with sorrow, then the dog turned from the edge and walked away.

The tears continued to echo down the avenue.

* * *

Penny met Bolt on their building roof, applied the dye, and led him back to the apartment. It had been a hard day for everyone. Mittens and Mindy had been returned to the Blythes, quiet and regretful, while Bolt had gone rooftop jumping again. Seeing him now, for the first time since today's failed intervention, he seemed to be taking it hardest of all. The dog seemed so melancholy; one plot had been foiled only to let another life slip through his paws. And it wasn't even his doing! If Mittens hadn't been there, the Joker would have succeeded.

I'm being a terrible superhero, Bolt thought to himself.

Penny's father came in. "Hey guys, sorry things didn't turn out today…"

"Dad, not right now." Penny nodded in Bolt's direction. He lay down on the carpet, his ears drooping dejectedly. The poor dog felt bad enough.

"Alright. But here you go, Penny. Found this, I thought it could help you guys." Richard handed his daughter a piece of paper, then left the two alone.

Penny looked at the paper, read it, then set it aside on the couch. She went over to Bolt and knelt down beside him. "Hey, boy, c'mere." She gave him a good rub-down, which certainly lifted his spirits a bit. "Look on the bright side, we're getting closer. You almost had him today, and next time his luck will run out. Third time's the charm!"

True, Bolt thought. Very true.

"And once we get him, you'll be a big hero! Everyone will love you, and we'll be happy." Penny chuckled. "Guess we're just not cut out for quiet lives anymore, huh?"

Also true, Bolt supposed. He couldn't help grinning a little as Penny continued to pet him. Ooh, right there…yeah, oh yes! Nothing could upset him during a good rub-down like this.

After a few more minutes, Penny stood up. Bolt also sat up, feeling nice and peppy again. "Here, Daddy gave me a good clue. Let's get ready to go!" She held up the paper and read it again. It had an address, a photograph of a man in a suit, and a short message from her dad scribbled on it:

"Devin Mulligan, working for Joker and Calico. Has information. Frequents address shown here."

* * *

The club was boisterous, crowded, and border-line psychedelic. Lasers and spotlights danced around with the patrons while stage fog, cigarette smoke, and the smell of alcohol wafted through the air. Devin was sitting at the bar, both drinking a Bloody Mary and striking up conversation with the bartender.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked around to see one of the club bouncers. "Mr. Mulligan, someone wants you outside."

"Tell 'em to piss off! I'm off-duty." He turned back to his drink and conversation. A minute later, he was again interrupted by the same bouncer.

"Mr. Mulligan, they insist they have your company."

"Shit, a man can't drink in peace these days!" Devin angrily shoved his way through the dancing crowd until he was outside the main entrance. He didn't see anyone though. "Hey!" he yelled, slightly tipsy, "Who the hell dragged me out here?!"

"Over here." He heard a female voice to his right, very young. Devin turned to see a girl, not even out of her teens, wearing a large trench coat and a hat and sunglasses to cover her face. "This way." She turned and proceeded down the sidewalk.

"What's going on? Is it…" he looked over his shoulder, then came right up to the girl to whisper, "Is it the Joker?"

The girl nodded. "Let's round the corner, so no one sees us. This next street is deserted." They were just coming up to the said corner, and Devin could see already how it was much darker.

"You're just a baby," he suddenly blurted out, "You're what, thirteen?" A nod. "Damn, good hired help must be getting scarce! No offence to teenage girls, of cour-" _WHAM_

In one pounce, Bolt had Devin pinned against the sidewalk. Penny grinned, satisfied with their work. "Good boy…"

* * *

Bolt was dangling Devin by his shirt collar over the edge of an old grocery store roof. It was a three-story drop to the street below. Penny, still in disguise, was interrogating the man.

"Where's the Joker?"

Devin, who had remained calm after his initial shock of being captured, looked up and coolly replied, "Listen, little girl, take some advice from a professional." He motioned with his hands to accentuate that he was referring to himself. "If you want to scare someone, pick a better spot! From this height…" he shook his head assuredly, "the fall wouldn't kill me."

"Perfect. Super-dog?" Taking Penny's cue, Bolt tossed the man off the roof. Devin gasped, then screamed as he plummeted. There was a sickening crack as he landed on his legs, the left one popping as the bone splintered. Bolt leapt off the building onto the street, while Penny had to take the far less impressive ladder down. She walked up to Devin, still wheezing in pain, Bolt holding him down by placing his left paw on the center of the man's chest.

"Where is the Joker?!" Penny demanded again. Bolt growled menacingly.

"I don't know…" Devin gasped, "I swear I don't know, he found us. Even Calico doesn't know, and don't ask me about him either!..." some more wheezing, "he just gives orders, I follow, I never see the doctor…"

"Well, does the Joker have friends?"

"Friends?" A chuckle, followed by a painful wince, "Have you seen this guy? He's looney! About as lovable…as your pooch over here."

"You must know something about him."

"Look, sweetheart," Devin tried to prop himself on his elbows, only to be forced back down by the paw, "if you're so concerned about the Joker, you can always turn your dog in…"

Bolt growled again, indignant at the suggestion.

"…that is, unless you're too scared of your own dog to do the right thing..."

Bolt paused, and looked at Penny. She briefly met his gaze, but looked away. Was it true, Bolt thought. Did Penny feel…threatened, by him? Intimidated?

"And as for you, Cujo," Devin kept talking, "if YOU'RE the one who wants the Joker, you know what to do. Just waltz down Central Avenue, wait for him to come find you. Or…" he tilted his head sarcastically, "you could wait for a few more people to get killed as you make up your mind."

* * *

When Penny and Bolt got home, Richard was talking on the phone. "Are you sure? You think she can handle-", he saw the two come in, then smacked himself lightly in the forehead and rolled his eyes. "What am I saying? I'll talk to them about it." He hung up.

"That was Jon," he explained, "informing me that they're having a press conference tomorrow for the owner of the super-dog to turn themselves in."

"What?"

"The police department has publicly announced they will keep the dog's owner in protective custody, safe from the Joker, so that he or she might convince the super-dog to come quietly. To help encourage a…confession, you might say, a press conference is being held outside the station."

"And you think I should go down there and reveal ourselves to the world?"

"I'm not going to tell you what to do. If you feel like you're close to catching the Joker, then by all means keep going. Jon himself was very divided over it."

"Hold on, Jon? You told Jon that Bolt is the super-dog?"

"I told him the other week, before Bolt even started this hero thing. But listen, he has a plan, and I think it's worth hearing out." He flipped open his phone again and dialed. "Here, talk to him about it."

* * *

_The nightmare returned._

_"Bolt, help!" Penny cried out, far away._

_The laughter._

_Bolt was still running, running as far and as fast as he could. He found himself in an intersection. A car went past, and he spotted Penny! In the back seat! She pressed her face against the window and yelled, "Bolt!" Driving was the Joker, who flashed a sadistic grin as he went past._

_Bolt grabbed the rear bumper and lifted the car up. He then slammed it on the ground, not hard enough to total it, but enough to pop the tires. Bolt climbed up and over the roof and stood on the hood glaring in, baring his teeth. But the Joker and Penny were gone. Two police officers stared back, visibly shaken and trembling, their mouths gaping from shock and fear._

_"Bolt!" Now Penny stood on the sidewalk, while the Joker came careening at her in a school bus. He was cackling again. Bolt took action, charging at the bus, lowering his head, and impacting it directly on its front right tire. The bus twisted onto its side away from the sidewalk, skidding along the road and hitting a couple other vehicles._

_ Bolt leapt onto the side of the bus and snarled savagely, ready to catch the Joker. Instead, he spotted a bus driver through the door, moaning and clutching her bleeding head. Glancing down the back, he saw at least a dozen people who had tumbled out of their seats, piled up against each other. They looked up and saw the super-dog, staring through the windows, and they screamed in terror._

_Looking back up, Penny was also gone, replaced with the mayor, cautiously stumbling away, desperately trying each door he passed by to find an unlocked one to escape into._

_"Bolt, where are you?!" Laughing. Echoing from everywhere._

_More and more people showed up, and as Bolt kept dashing back forth, chasing each fake Penny and Joker, the citizenry became more and more panicked. They fled if Bolt so much as looked at them. _

_And still, the maniacal laughter._


	17. The Plan

The next day, a crowd gathered outside the police station. Squad cars and news vans lined the street. In the back of the throng of people stood Penny, her father, and Jon. Bolt sat by their feet. They were nervous for what was to come next. A podium was set up, and a police officer walked up and addressed the attendees.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Before we begin, I would like to assure the citizens of Highton that your police force is doing everything in its power to stop the Joker killings," a collective murmur ran through the crowd. The speaker waited for everyone to calm down before continuing, "Now, as you all know, we are hopefully going to hear today from the person who owns the super-dog. If that man or woman is in the crowd today, we ask you to speak up now."

"Actually," Jon raised his hand for attention, "I was hoping to have the chance to say something first." Everyone turned to face him.

The speaking officer looked around confusedly, as he had not anticipated such a request. Receiving no objection, he nodded for Jon to continue.

"Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen," he projected his voice across the mass of people, "let us analyze this situation. Should we give in to this terrorist? Do you think that he'll really stop-"

"You'd rather defend a dog than human citizens?" The interruption prompted an angry outburst of agreement. Penny looked around nervously, and her father put his arm around her in comfort. The crowd settled a bit, letting Jon continue.

"The super-dog may be just a dog, yes," he looked Richard, then Penny in the eyes as he spoke, "but he's done more for this community then many humans will ever do. We were perfectly happy to let him clean up crime for us until now, until we got scared."

"'Clean up'? Things are worse than ever!" Another outbreak of yelling, as the mob became increasingly annoyed at the singular disturbance. The officer at the podium began shouting at everyone to calm down. Richard pulled his daughter closer, and Bolt shrank down a bit, nervous someone may recognize him in the frenzy. Eventually, Jon made himself heard again.

"Yes, yes they are. But I believe the night is darkest just before dawn. And I am sure," he glanced down, into Bolt's eyes, then back up "the dawn will come to us."

"No more dead cops!" The rabble grew more incensed as each outburst only served to flare the collective temper. "The dog should turn itself in!" "Show us the owner, where are they?!" Penny looked at her father, and her father looked at Jon, who gazed sadly back. He had done his best. It was time, then.

"Very well," Jon yelled, his words shushing the crowd. "Have as you wish. Officers, please take the dog's owner into custody."

Everyone glanced around, surprised yet expecting. Who was it?! One last look at Richard, who gravely nodded. Jon took a deep breath, and opened his mouth to speak:

"I own the super-dog."

* * *

Amanda came into the station hurriedly, just in time to see Jon being escorted to a police van.

"Jonathan Blythe, what are you doing?!" she came up alongside him as he proceeded. "I look on the news to see my husband's face plastered on every channel! Have you taken up drinking or something, making you think you honestly own the super-dog?"

"Amanda, it's alright. I have a plan."

"No, you have no plan because you're coming home right now! Tell everyone the truth."

"Honey, listen to me." He paused and held his wife's head in his hands, and whispered, "Richard is the super-dog's owner."

"What? You mean, you mean…Bolt?"

"Yes, I know it's a lot to take in, but just trust me."

"That-that's impossible, I mean-but-"

"Trust me on this! Look, in an hour, they're going to move me to central holding. That will be the Joker's time to strike, and when he does, the super-dog will take him down! Now, I need you to get home and bring Mittens and Mindy to Richard, apparently they help Bolt out."

"What? Jon, no! The super-dog—Bolt—whatever, doesn't even know if he can stop the Joker, he's failed so far. And what about me? What about the kids, you're willing to just leave us? Do you even love-"

Jon silenced her with a sudden, long kiss. He rested his forehead against hers and explained, "I love you very much, honey. And I love Elise, Henry, and Andrew with all my heart. That's why I'm doing this, to save them. To stop the Joker before he gets them. And also to spare Richard and his daughter. If I die tonight, the kids will still have you. If Richard dies, Penny has no one. And if she dies, Richard has no one. I can't imagine having that pain, and I won't imagine them having it either."

He turned and kept walking, finally arriving at the armored van. Amanda still trailed, desperate to stop him even as he climbed in. "Jon," she pleaded, "Tell everyone the truth! You could die."

"Then tell the kids I died doing something right." He blew one last kiss before the doors slammed and locked.

* * *

It was twilight, just fading into nighttime when Jon was transferred. The convoy made its way down the streets. It consisted of a patrol car in front, a van which carried an entire SWAT team, the armored van Jon was in, and two more patrol cars in the rear, all accompanied by a police helicopter. Everything seemed clear.

Jon sat beside his armed guard, worried about the ride. So far it had seemed smooth, yet he remained absolutely certain the Joker was going to show up.

The van's driver wore goggles and a mask, as protection his partner assumed. "Man," he tried to strike up conversation, "hope you got some good moves pal, we might need them!" The driver nodded, but remained silent.

The roads were blocked along the route, allowing a clear path through the heart of Highton. Police barricades stopped and detoured drivers, bringing the city's traffic to a crawl.

At one such traffic stop, a truck horn blared, demanding passage. An officer walked up, annoyed at the persistence of the driver, a man with round glasses and a Stetson hat. The driver slowly turned to stare at the lawman.

"Hey," the cop yelled, "You gotta wait your turn just like everyone else pal!"

The Joker suddenly leaned over from the passenger seat and fired a shotgun through the window. The driver didn't even look away.

* * *

The convoy turned onto Fifth Avenue, and in the fading blue of dusk, a bright orange spot appeared at the end of the road.

"What the hell is that?" The driver of the front patrol car could barely to see the object, but he could tell it was big, and blocking their route. He grabbed the radio. "Obstruction ahead! Obstruction ahead!" He tried to see it clearly again. "Damn it, exit down onto lower Fifth! Exit down!"

Back in Jon's van, the passenger turned to the driver again. "Lower Fifth? That's in the underground tunnels, we'll be sitting ducks!" But there was no choice.

As the convoy drew closer, everyone's eyes grew wide as they caught a good look at the obstruction; a fire truck, completely gutted, burning furiously as a grim threat of the chaos to come. They drove past, the flames roaring out at them.

All five vehicles drove under the main roads, while the helicopter flew over to where they would exit.

Suddenly, a large garbage truck drove up beside the two rear patrol cars. The truck's driver veered to the right, smashing into the very back one. The car was forced through the street barricade, into the oncoming traffic. The truck accelerated and caught the bumper of the next car. The truck's driver steered back and forth, forcing the cop into a complete 180 turn-around and leaving him out for the count. Pleased at having completed his part of the job so well, the driver accelerated again until he caught the bumper of Jon's van.

Jon stumbled at the jolt of the impact. Something was going on outside.

The van's driver whipped the steering wheel back and forth, expertly keeping the van going straight. His partner reeled from the impact. "Jesus, get us out of here, let's go!" He grabbed the radio, "Hey, we need back-up! Now!"

The SWAT van's driver answered affirmatively. He turned to call to the team in the back, "We got trouble guys. Get ready to lock and load!"

At the moment, the convoy passed through an intersection, and a large eighteen-wheeler cut across the road and smashed into the SWAT van. The team members yelled in shock as the van swerved, crashed through the roadside barricades, and slammed into the tunnel wall.

The new truck pulled out into the street alongside the convoy, crashing into oncoming vehicles and shoving them out of the way. The side of the trailer advertised a traveling carnival with the motto "Laughter is the best medicine!" A large red "S" was spray-painted in front of the "L".

"The hell is that?" The driver's partner gaped at the big rig.

The door on the trailer slid open, revealing none other than the Joker himself. He gripped a handle which hung from the roof, and was accompanied by several of his clowns. Raising his automatic pistol, he fired at Jon's van, the rounds leaving dents in the metal side. Jon leapt away from the wall. The pistol purred as it fired, and a cacophony of "TOT"'s rang out as each bullet hit its target. The van's driver was powerless to escape. Any attempt to slow down or veer away from the Joker was impossible thanks to the garbage truck ramming them from behind.

The pistol ran out of ammunition. The Joker threw it onto the street and held out his hand to his clowns, snapping his fingers in anticipation. A thug grabbed a shotgun, pumped it, and handed it to his boss. He fired it, the shot embedding itself in the van's wall. The Joker released the handle and knelt down to aim better.

He pumped the shotgun. _CHICHIK _And fired. _BOW_

_CHICHIK BOW_

_CHICHIK BOW_

Jon turned to his guard. "These vans are built for that, right?"

"Don't worry, he'll need something a lot bigger to get through that."

Back in the truck, the Joker tossed away the shotgun and motioned to his clowns, who brought him something a lot bigger.

"What is that?" The van's passenger looked through the driver's window, gawking at the Joker as he was handed a large RPG. "Is that a bazooka?!"

The weapon flared, launching a rocket at the patrol car still remaining in front of the van. It hit the side squarely, the detonation smashing the fuel lines and the fireball igniting the gasoline. The ensuing explosion forced the car's trunk into the air, causing the vehicle to twist around and land on its side. The van pushed it out of the way, now the only vehicle left in the convoy.

The Joker watched as the car fell behind, still smoking. Suddenly, barking echoed down the tunnel. Turning to see what was ahead, he saw a small white dog sprinting down the road at an incredible speed. It dashed right for the van, lowering its head for impact.

"Look out! Look out!" The van's driver heeded his partner's warning, and at the very last second accelerated and swerved away from the garbage truck. The super-dog proceeded to ram the truck squarely in its grill, forcing it to a sudden halt. The driver's head banged against his wheel from the whiplash, rendering him unconscious. Bolt turned around and stared after the van, then the truck, still in hot pursuit of the former. He made eye contact with the Joker, staring back from the trailer. Bolt snarled, and began running to catch up.

The Joker simply turned back around. "Hmm," he uttered, as if the dog had done nothing more spectacular than lie down to sleep. It didn't matter, his job was almost done. Reaching around behind him, he was handed another rocket, which he loaded into the tube. The Joker leveled the RPG, and aimed at the truck.

His finger itched on the trigger.

He fired.


	18. Showdown

Bolt sprinted to catch up to the two vehicles, both the Joker's truck and Jon's van. So far, the plan had worked: the Joker had revealed himself, and Bolt was here to catch him! That wasn't to say, though, that everything had gone as expected. In the tunnels, it was impossible for the helicopter to provide support, and the close quarters meant Bolt had to be extremely careful to avoid collateral damage.

He ran, aiming for straight in between the two vehicles. The Joker was loading his bazooka again, and Bolt saw the tip of the projectile's head as it was leveled to aim. The van had taken a beating already, there was no way it could handle an RPG like that! Bolt paused in his tracks and stared at the rocket head, focusing in on it. He concentrated his power in his eyes, and he felt the energy gathering.

The rocket fired.

Two green lines of focused light screeched through the air and hit the projectile midflight.

_BWOOSH_

The explosion rocked the van and sent it into a swerving spin, until it ended up facing the opposite direction. However, the van's wall and Jon were still in one piece.

The Joker and his crew recoiled from the blast, relatively unharmed despite its proximity. However, a stray bit of shrapnel flew into the cab and embedded itself between the driver's shoulder blades, killing him almost instantly. The truck dragged along the barricades until it screeched to a halt.

The blast also had another effect: the head had detonated right next to one of the main supporting columns which held up the tunnel's roof. The force fractured the column, and it quickly crumbled; the ceiling consequently began to collapse. Bolt skidded to a halt, almost cartoonishly, to avoid being buried in the rubble. The whole way was blocked; he'd have to go around! Bolt turned, but paused. Where now?, he thought. 52nd Street! The convoy – that is, what was left of it, was planned to go down that street in case things began falling apart, like they were now. That was where the final safeguard in Jon's plan was set up. Bolt sprinted back down the tunnel.

On the other side of the rubble, Jon's driver and his partner balked at the collapsed ceiling they had almost been trapped under. They shifted their eyes over to the truck, and the figures climbing out of the trailer. "Come on, get us out of here!" the partner yelled. The driver obliged, making a four-point turnaround to continue down the tunnel.

The Joker leapt out of the trailer and watched the van speed off. He shook his head and grumbled to himself, "Jonny, Jonny, Jonny Blythe!" Opening the cab's passenger door and climbing in, he saw the dead driver slumped over his steering wheel. He reached over and opened the driver's door. "Oh, 'scuse me! I wanna drive!" The Joker unceremoniously shoved the body out the cab, before taking his place in the driver's seat.

Back in the van, the driver's partner kept yelling, "Come on, we need to get topside! We need air support, now!" Looking in the rearview mirrors, he saw the truck coming up fast.

"La dada dum," the Joker sung to himself as he swerved to hit an oncoming car, just a little impulse he had. He veered through a turn-around point, crushing another car trying to squeeze past, and positioned himself directly behind the van. The Joker watched the van turn onto 52nd Street, and he followed suit, turning so sharply that the trailer banged against one of the concrete support columns. "Ooh, I like this job! I love it!" They were now in the open, and so far off-route that civilian traffic still lined the street.

"Alright, we're on point! Ready to give 'em some of their own medicine!" The helicopter radioed to the van, and weaved through the buildings until they were directly above 52nd Street. They faced the tunnel exit and came in low, ready to open fire on the Joker's truck. The spotlight searched the street for the van and its pursuer.

The van's driver looked up, relieved to see the helicopter. His partner was equally grateful. "That's what I'm talking about, here comes the cavalry!"

The Joker also spotted the incoming air support, and grabbed a walkie-talkie from his coat pocket. "Okay, rack 'em up. Rack 'em up! Rack 'em up! Rack 'em up!" Two clowns, both standing on fire escapes on opposite sides of 52nd street, started as their radios crackled with their order. Quickly leaping to action, they each grabbed an air cannon and fired a grappling hook to their partner across the way. The hooks caught and the cords retracted until they were taut, leaving two wires strung up ten floors above the streets – precisely the height the helicopter was flying at.

The chopper's spotlight caught the van, and began searching for the truck. "Get ready guys!" the pilot called to the back. He sped up, trying to get close enough to avoid hitting any innocent bystanders. Suddenly, the whole helicopter tilted forward, as the landing skids caught on the first wire. The second wire pressed against the cockpit window, and the vehicle began leaning to its side. The pilot grabbed the joystick and tried to right the helicopter's path, but each move he made only worsened the situation. The helicopter began to spin.

The van's driver and his partner watched the show from the ground. "That's not good," the partner needlessly remarked. They watched as the helicopter twisted and twirled a hundred feet in the air. The tail rotor sliced through a line of office windows. "Okay, that's DEFINITELY not good!" The chopper quickly lost altitude until it finally slammed against the ground, rolling and bouncing, as taxis and mini-vans veered to get out of the way. "Look out!" The driver swerved as the helicopter came tumbling at them, swiping the right side of the van. Behind them, the Joker cackled delightedly. Driving past the ruined helicopter, he giggled excitedly to himself.

The crash echoed down the street, alerting Mittens and Mindy. They were waiting further down the road, hiding behind a dumpster. A large coil of cord was next to them. Mindy peered out at the street, looking one way, then the other. "Oh my gosh, a helicopter crashed!"

"I doubt it was an accident," Mittens answered. "Do you see the van?"

The German shepherd again looked down the road. "Yes! And it looks like there's a big truck following it."

"That's probably the Joker. C'mon, we gotta get ready!" Mittens motioned to the wire, which Mindy grabbed in her teeth. They both looked at the oncoming chase. "Okay, when the van goes past, you dash across the street! Got that?"

Mindy nodded silently, and Mittens took the opposite end of the wire. This was very important, and Mindy was afraid she would mess it up. Her worry showed through, apparently, because Mittens pawed on her shoulder to get her attention.

"On't urry, oo do rate." She sounded out the words of encouragement to the dog. They turned and watched. The van zoomed past. "Guh! Guh!" the cat grunted.

Mindy sprinted to the far sidewalk. She turned her head for just a second to catch a glimpse of the oncoming truck, and the Joker's maliciously grinning face. The terror that singed into her heart compelled her to run even faster, reaching the other side in record time. Mindy and Mittens stretched the cord as much and as high as they could, praying this would work.

The truck zoomed past, and the wire caught on the front bumper. It yanked from the duo's teeth and trailed along beside the vehicle as it roared past. The Joker didn't even notice. Success! The two looked at each other from across the street, and smiled a weak smile. They had done it! All they needed now was—

The loud crashing of a dumpster being shoved aside echoed from down the road. Bolt dashed from an alleyway and stood in the middle of the street, his shoulders hunched and his teeth bared. The Joker's focus shifted from the van to the dog. "Now there's a super-dog…"

Bolt began running, past the van and towards the truck.

"Oh, Spot wants to play! Come on!"

The dog kept running at the truck.

"Yeah, come on."

Just when he was about to hit the truck, though, Bolt suddenly veered to the left. The Joker watched him, confused. The dog grabbed one end of the trailing wire in his jaws, then zoomed around the right side and took the other end. He ran down the street and positioned himself behind the truck, the wire's slack quickly running out.

"He missed!" The Joker triumphantly yelled to his crew.

Bolt took a look at the truck, driving away, and couldn't help a mean-hearted smirk. Poor clown hardly knew what was about to happen. Bolt slammed his paws into the asphalt, embedding each one three inches into the ground. He watched the wire go, go, go, until it was about to tauten. Just as it did, Bolt jerked his head back.

The Joker lurched forward as the truck's front bumper lurched backward. The rear end of the truck, still carrying its momentum, flew upwards into the air. The whole vehicle groaned as it flipped.

A second of dead silence.

Then a crash as the whole thing fell on its roof. Bolt admired his handiwork, then tore his feet out of the road and began running for the final apprehension.

A hundred feet ahead, the van screeched to a halt. The driver grabbed a rifle and opened his door. His partner looked in shock. "We can't go out there now! We gotta get out of here." The driver refused to listen, and wordlessly leapt out of the van.

The Joker, meanwhile, was crawling his way out of the wreckage of his truck. With a groan, he fell out of the cab and onto the street. In his hand, he clutched the one thing he had salvaged from the crash: an M76 submachine gun. The Joker began stumbling his way into a standing position. He accidentally triggered his gun, which fired as he fell. As the daze of being flipped upside down wore off, though, he quickly stood up again. He walked by the wires and flicked them with his finger, making a thwapping sound. The Joker looked up at the night sky, the buildings, then at Bolt.

Bolt was running, his eyes dead set on the Joker. The madman.

The Joker began mumbling, "…come on, come on….." He fired his gun, not at Bolt, but at a taxi that happened to be driving by. The driver veered to the right as the bullets peppered his car, crashing into a parked semi-truck. The firing stopped.

"…come on, come on, coooome on, come on, I want you to do it, I want you to do it, COME ON!" Another barrage at a passing coupe, which also crashed. "Come on…"

Bolt kept sprinting. He became maddened as the Joker kept firing at civilians, people who had nothing to do with this. His rage began building.

"Coooooome on, come on, I want you do it…."

He wanted this man to suffer for his crimes….

"…I WANT you do it…"

This monster didn't deserve to…

"…come on, kill me."

Should he?

"Come on, kill me."

Such horribly violent desires…

"Come on, kill me!"

No one would object…

"Come on, KILL ME!"

Just a snap at the throat and

"KILL ME!"

NO!

Bolt found himself lunging at the Joker. At the very last second, the last micro second, he stopped himself, bunching his body up to avoid killing the man. He ended up only lightly brushing against the Joker's shoulder. He slammed into the ground and slid against the street, stopping motionless in front of the truck.

The Joker stood staring as the dog skidded to a halt. Well, that was unexpected. Might as well roll with it. Dropping his gun, he began sauntering over, pulling his switchblade from his pocket and flipping it open. His sole surviving clown cautiously rolled the dog onto his back. Bolt only made light movements, dazed from hitting the street. The Joker began skipping and lightly singing, "Badada rum, ba rum, ba rum, ba rum…"

The clown, feeling courageous, decided to catch a glimpse of the super-dog's teeth, for bragging rights. As he lifted up the dog's lip though, Bolt snapped at his finger. While only a weak bite, it was still enough to crush the finger bone. The clown yelled and fell back, prompting the Joker to ridicule him. He leapt onto his thug and kicked him, laughing and mocking with a gibberish gobble. The Joker spit at the body, then knelt down over Bolt. He placed the knife on the dog's throat. "Come on, come on…"

Suddenly, there was the click of a gun being cocked, and the Joker felt the barrel of a rifle on the back of his neck. He growled in exasperation. "Really, can you please just give me a minute?!" A rough hand grabbed his shoulder and tossed him onto the street, away from Bolt. The Joker looked up into the van driver's face.

Morgan Thompson's face.

He looked down at the Joker and grinned, "Got you this time, you son of a bitch."

The Joker tossed his knife away. He was done.

Leaving the clown to be forced into an arriving patrol car, Morgan opened the van door. Jon grinned back out. "Nice work, Morgan."

"We got him!"

The duo became swarmed as more policemen showed up, and then the press, the reporters who wanted to interview the biggest heroes in Highton.

The Joker stared out from the rear seat of the police car at Morgan Thompson, back from the dead it seemed.

There was Jonathan Blythe, the man whom he had failed to kill.

There was the super-dog, getting back on his feet and trotting down the street. The dog joined up with a cat and a German shepherd…the same one that had run across the street. And from the shadows emerged a girl, the same girl from the dinner party with the auburn hair, who knelt down and cuddled the super-dog.

The Joker kept staring at the reunion until the car drove off to take him away.


	19. Face to Face

A Microtech Troodon.

A large steak knife.

An AKC Concord 078.

A potato peeler.

The officer moved down the table with the Joker's jacket, removing the knives from the pockets and lining them up on the surface. Along with the many blades, he also found a box of matches, a picture of a kangaroo with the mouth scribbled over in red crayon and the eyes framed with black circles, and an oversized digital watch that had the back removed and wires sticking everywhere.

The Joker himself sat twenty feet away in a cell in the middle of the room. He sat on a bench, quietly staring at the people around him and tapping his fingers together. His gaze wandered over to the second holding cell on the other side of the room, where George Hartway sat in his protective custody. The man was curled up in the far corner of the cell, his eyes never wavering from the Joker. The clown flashed a fiendish smile, and George looked away quickly.

"Stand away! All of you!" Morgan yelled at the men clustered around the Joker's cell as he walked into the station. "I want nothing for his lawyer to use, understand?!"

Behind him, Jon and Mayor Garcia followed. The mayor brushed Morgan's arm to get his attention. "Back from the dead, huh?"

Morgan smiled. "Well, when this little bastard shot me the other day," he motioned at the Joker, "he ended up hitting my phone, so the bullet deflected and just grazed my side. I was hospitalized still, just to be on the safe side. That night, Jon," he motioned with his hands, "called me with this idea to catch the clown, which involved me faking my own death. Which means," he sighed, "I'm probably going to have a very upset wife when I get home."

The mayor nodded at the story, then towards the Joker. "So, whaddaya got on this guy?"

Morgan exhaled tiredly. "Nothing, absolutely nothing. No matches on fingerprints, DNA, dental work. His clothing has no traceable labels. No identification in his pockets, I'm assuming," the officer holding the jacket shook his head. "No other alias. This guy's a phantom."

"Go home, Thompson. We'll get the clown put away in the morning. Go see your family and get some rest. You'll need it." Morgan turned, confused. "Tomorrow you take the big job!" The mayor smiled as he saw Morgan's eyes light up with realization. "That's right, Commissioner Thompson, everyone!"

Jon clapped his friend on the shoulder, and the surrounding officers applauded. Morgan grinned with pride for his new title. Several men and women offered handshakes, which he gratefully accepted. One man's clapping grew louder above all the rest though. Everyone turned to face the Joker, staring right at Morgan with a grim expression and clapping mockingly.

* * *

Penelope answered the door and saw her husband, her dead husband, standing on the porch. She stood transfixed, doubting if she could trust her eyes.

Morgan was silent for a moment, then stepped forward, "Penelope, I'm sorry, but I couldn't risk-"

A slap across the face shut him up. Penelope's face was wrought with hurt, and she began crying, like she had been for the past day. She threw her arms around her husband, and tears of relief and joy streamed down her face.

* * *

"Hey Bill, I forgot this in the patrol car. Picked this out of the Joker's truck." The officer held up a red drawstring bag.

"What's inside?"

The officer looked in the bag. "Some broken parts, I think a radio."

"Put it up on the table with the rest of the clown's stuff."

* * *

Morgan knelt down beside his daughter's bed, the little girl sleeping peacefully. She could do so safely now, it was all over. He ran his fingers softly through her hair, and she quietly woke. Her brown eyes looked over at her father.

"Did the super-dog save you Daddy?"

Morgan chuckled. "Well, actually, this time, I got to save him."

He kissed her lightly on her forehead, and left her to return to her sleep. As he silently closed her door, his pager quietly jingled. He picked it off his belt and read the message. His brows furrowed.

* * *

Morgan poked his head into Observation, "Has he said anything more yet?" Headshakes answered him. He returned to the hallway and went one more door over to Interrogation. The door buzzed as he opened it, then groaned and slammed shut behind him. The whole room was dark except for one ceiling light by the door and a lamp on the interrogation desk, at which sat the Joker. The weak light shone on the Joker's white face paint, highlighting it against the darkness behind, giving the illusion that he was nothing more than a floating head, a spirit.

"Evening…Commissioner…"

Morgan sat down at the chair opposite the Joker. He hesitated, then, "You yourself stated there's a bomb somewhere in the city."

"That's right."

"Where did you put it?"

"Me? I didn't put it anywhere." The Joker raised his hands, showing the handcuffs which bound them to each other. "Just like how you all blame me for killing the chief. Whose fault was that, anyway? Could it be the fault of Carls' right hand man, who failed to save his precious chief from death?"

He paused to let his words sink in.

"Does it depress you, Commissioner, to think about those lives you could have saved? If only you had been a little faster. And now you're all alone, up on the top. The whole city is counting on you now, aren't they? Let's hope you stop letting them down."

"Where's the bomb?" Morgan remained unfazed.

The Joker dropped his monologue. "Fine. What's the time?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," the Joker motioned with his hands, "depending on the time, the bomb could be in one spot or several."

Morgan knew where this was going. Typical interrogation room banter, the clown was going to put up a fight. He reached into his pocket and took out a set of keys. "If we're going to play this little game…"

"Mhm…"

"…I'm going to need to get a drink." He reached over, unlocked the Joker's handcuffs, and took them as he stood up and left the room.

"Ah, the Good Cop, Bad Cop routine?" The Joker clicked his tongue and winked knowingly.

Morgan smirked. "Not exactly." The door buzzed, letting the commissioner out.

The Joker sat back in his chair. The two lights went out, leaving the room in total darkness. He heard something padding across the floor, then jumping onto the table.

The lights all came on, flooding the space in a white glow.

And he found himself staring the super-dog directly in the face.

Bolt lifted his paw and slammed the Joker's head onto the table, forcing the man's face to scrunch up in shock. He groaned and held his forehead.

"Augh, never start with the head. The victim gets all…fuzzy. He can't feel the next-"

Bolt lifted his paw again and slammed it down on the clown's hand, resting on the table. This time, only a mild reaction, nothing more than a small flinch. The Joker looked him in the eyes.

"See?! Wha'd I tell you?"

Back in the observation room, Jon and Richard joined Morgan and the rest of the station's crew, all of which could be trusted to safeguard Richard's identity; as far as they were concerned, this whole incident wasn't even happening. The trio nodded to each other, then Morgan pressed the intercom button.

"You understand the game now? Tell us where the bomb is." Bolt bared his teeth and growled at the clown.

The Joker ignored the voice, however, and examined the dog as if it was a piece of rare and valuable art. "You know, it's about time I saw you up close." He suddenly reached and pulled up the dog's lip to see the teeth, stunning Bolt with his audacity and fearlessness. "Huh, those things did a nasty job on my guy back there." Bolt jerked his head away and snapped at the Joker, who pressed back in his seat, but still shook his finger at the dog. "You got a nasty temper on you! No wonder that Calico fool wants you gone."

"Where's the bomb?"

The Joker continued to address Bolt. "He thinks getting rid of you will put things back to the way they were," he leaned forward a bit to get closer, "but he can't see the truth. There's no going back. You, you've changed things. Forever."

Morgan pressed the button again. "If it doesn't matter, then why are you trying to kill him?

The Joker giggled wheezingly, and turned to the polarized windows, pointing at Bolt. "I don't-I don't want to kill him!" He turned back, "I mean, what would I do without you? Go back to ripping off Calico's thugs? Oh no. No, no. See, you…" he held his hands close to his heart, "you…you've given me…REAL purpose..."

"Enough! Where's the bomb?" Bolt growled again, still failing to intimidate the Joker.

"Oh, don't act like you're one of them, normal. You're not! Even if you'd like to be." He leaned forward again, only an inch from Bolt's snout. "See, to them, you're dangerous, a freak, like me! They need you right now to throw some people around, but when all's said and done…" he paused and raised his eyebrows knowingly, "…they're scared of you. They all are. They see the fancy stuff you pull off, and they don't want to see it in their city. No one does. They'll cast you out. You'll be kicked around," he played his fingers around the air "rejected by person after person, and when you can't take it anymore…you'll end up like me."

Bolt suddenly lunged and grabbed the Joker's shirt collar in his teeth, dragging the clown out of his chair and over the table. The intercom crackled again, "Where is the bomb?!"

The Joker kept talking, "I don't think they even see you as a dog."

Bolt dragged him down until his chest was pinned onto the table, then held him down with a paw and squeezed him. Still no effect.

"You're nothing more than a four-legged angel of death to everyone."

Bolt snarled and increased the pressure. His mind flitted around; annoyance, that the clown wasn't breaking; anger, at the rubbish he was spitting out; horror, that his rubbish might actually be true.

Morgan's voice echoed into the room again, this time more concerned, "Super-dog, ease up a bit!" The Joker wriggled his arm out from underneath his body motioned toward the window as in example.

"Well, it's getting late anyway, so I might as well let you know where the bombs are…"

Morgan stiffened. Bombs? Plural?

"You know," the Joker turned just enough to look up at Bolt towering over him, "despite what you all think of me, I enjoy doing good deeds. For example, I've been watching you a while now, and you know what I've noticed? This brown haired little bitch who seems to follow you everywhere, so I had my men take her on a lovely little trip downtown," and he chuckled.

Brown haired? But that could only mean…

No.

No!

NO!

Not Penny! Bolt snarled and tossed the Joker onto the floor, then leapt off the table and began dragging a chair over to the door.

"Super-dog!" Morgan again yelled over the intercom, now sounding panicked. He ran from Observation into the hallway.

"Look at you go!" The Joker began trying to work his way into a sitting position, then standing. He watched as Bolt wedged the chair under the door handle, just as Morgan began pounding on the door from the other side.

Bolt did not want to be disturbed right now.

"Oh, did I make little Fluffy very mad at me?" The Joker teased, even as Bolt pounced on him, again flooring the man. The dog pinned the clown down with all four paws, standing right on his chest. His anger was swelling again.

"Another good deed," the Joker quickly interrupted the beating, "I honestly thought, for a while there, that Blythe really did own you. So as a gesture of thanks, I sent his family a little goodie basket, which should be arriving soon…" and another demented giggle.

"WHAT?!" Jon screamed in the observation room and pressed against the glass. He frantically wrested his phone from his pocket and tried dialing his family to warn them.

Bolt grabbed the Joker's shirt collar and, in one effortless flick of the head, tossed the clown against the wall opposite the observation room. His body flew through the air and smashed into the far window, shattering the glass, before falling to the floor. Still no effect on the Joker's attitude.

"Super-dog, stop it, we need him alive!" Morgan's voice no longer registered with Bolt.

"Killing is just making a choice!"

Bolt was seething now, and slapped the man across the head to just shut him up. The force lashed the Joker's head to the side so hard, Morgan could have sworn the clown's neck had broken. Still, he turned around and kept talking.

"Choose between the one life or the many. Your friend's entire family, or your brown-haired sidekick bitch! HAHA-" another slap, this time strong enough to twist the Joker's whole body into a facing-down position, which only sent the clown into his signature mad cackling.

Bolt's chest fell and rose with rapid, furious breathing. He could hardly believe his eyes; he had always been able to easily intimidate criminals in the past, but this man - this thing, had no fear it seemed. There was no begging, or whimpering, only the laughing. The Joker turned himself back around and pointed at Bolt.

"You have, NOTHING! Nothing to threaten me with! Nothing to do, with all your powers!"

Jon grabbed Morgan's and Richard's shoulders. "Guys, Amanda isn't answering her phone! We don't have a landline, I can't call her! I gotta go!" With that, he ran from the observation room. Morgan turned back to watch, with horror, as Bolt grabbed the Joker's neck in his jaws and growled again, this time a much more menacing and savage growl than he had ever uttered before.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you where they are! Both of them. And that's the point: you have to choose one to save. She's on the corner of Washington and Collodi, and you know where the Blythes are." With that, Bolt threw the Joker aside, burst through the door, and ran out of the station without stopping.


	20. Race Against Time

Bolt raced through the police station doors, nearly ripping them off their hinges, and took off down the street, heading for Washington Avenue. Jon watched him go as he ran for his car.

"Where's he going?! We need to save my family!" he yelled angrily, desperately, as he fumbled with his keys.

"Jon, with me!" Morgan called him over to a squad car, "I'll put on the sirens, we can go faster!" Jon obliged, and the two squealed out of the station's parking lot, horns blaring on full blast.

* * *

Amanda was watching television when Andrew waddled out of his room. "Mommy?"

"Andrew, it's late! What's the matter, honey?"

"I had a bad dream."

"Aw, come here." She put out her arms, and Andrew quietly walked into them. "It's okay, the scary dream is gone now."

"When is Daddy going to be home?"

Amanda breathed in deeply. She had seen the whole truck chase on television, constantly on the edge of her seat, and had almost collapsed with relief when she saw her husband leaving the van alive. Honestly, she had expected him home by now.

"He'll be back soon, sweetie. I promise."

* * *

Bolt was, again that night, running down the road. His fastest super-speed was not an option; he needed to be able to read the signs. However, Bolt still kept a remarkable pace of thirty miles an hour, simply jumping onto and over vehicles that were stopped in his way. People waiting at intersections jumped at the sudden dull thudding of pawpad on fiberglass as the super-dog leaped onto and off of their roof, and watched as he disappeared down the way.

* * *

"I want my phone call. I want it, I want my phone call. Now."

"Shut up, clown." The tall officer pushed the Joker back into his holding cell, where he turned and grasped the bars.

"You owe me one phone call."

"Well, I'm so happy for you," and the large cop began walking off. The Joker sat down on his bench again. Two other officers were at the table, still adorned with the clown's possessions. One of the men was looking in the bag.

"Bill, do you have any idea what this is?" He pulled out what looked like a disassembled radio, with a mess of wires protruding from it and leading to seven other smaller cloth bags, ranging in size from a sock to a basketball, all of which were sealed with duct tape.

Bill looked at it curiously. "Trying getting one of the bags opened."

* * *

Henry came peeking out of his room. "Mom?"

Amanda, still hugging Andrew, looked at her older son. "Yes?"

"I can't sleep."

His mother shook her head, "That makes three of us." Suddenly, inspiration struck. "How about we all have a nice glass of milk before bed?" The two boys murmured their consent, and Amanda led them to the fridge.

As they passed by the stove, the clock read 7:57.

Seventeen floors down, a man waited in his car, his dashboard clock also reading 7:57. He watched it intently.

7:58

He reached over, tenderly took the box that was in his passenger seat, and opened his door.

* * *

Jon couldn't sit still in the cop car, even as it raced down the streets of Highton. "Come on, go faster!"

Morgan sped through light after light, dodging traffic, determined not to let this end in tragedy again.

* * *

An officer took out his pocket knife and began slicing into the smallest bag on the contraption. The Joker sat in his cell, staring. He asked again, more forceful this time, "I still want my phone call."

"God damn it, do you shut up?"

Bill turned around, "What's the matter?"

The Joker pointed at the officer. "He won't give me my phone call."

"Casey, just give him a cell phone and let him be done with it."

"Fine," Casey walked back over to the cell, fiddling in his pockets for his phone.

* * *

Washington Street!

Bolt thought quickly about where Collodi was. He tried to remember…left, towards the outskirts of town! Without breaking stride, he veered to the left, cutting across the intersection.

Without warning, a sedan came speeding through the light. His mind panicked, Bolt reacted by instinct, and jumped. He kicked off of the car's door, rebounding off of it down the street.

He ignored the spinning vehicle with the crumpled door he left behind.

* * *

The bag split open to reveal a clay-like material, and a variety of small objects: shotgun pellets, broken glass, all little things, less than a centimeter wide.

"Jesus Christ, what is it?" Bill stared over the officer's shoulder at the bag.

"It looks like…some kind of bomb."

"Shit…" Bill turned back to Casey, who was extending out his phone towards the Joker. "Shit, take it back Casey! Don't give him the damn phone!"

Casey looked back, momentarily confused by the conflicting order.

A moment was all the Joker needed.

In a flash, he snatched the phone and smashed it against the iron bar of his cell wall. The plastic and glass shattered, leaving a razor edge. With his free hand, the Joker grabbed the back of Casey's shirt and yanked him backwards, slamming his head against the cell bars. He pressed the phone, now in effect a deadly knife, against Casey's neck, but didn't break the skin. Casey shouted in shock, having gone from captor to captive in the time span of two seconds.

The other officers began yelling, and drew their guns from the holsters. Cops elsewhere in the station heard the racket and came running.

"Whoa, whoa, easy!"

"Drop the weapon now!"

"Easy there!"

"Release the officer!"

The Joker pressed the blade harder against Casey as the man struggled, and mockingly pretended to not hear the rest of the cops. "Hm, sorry? Can you say that in my good ear?"

As the stand-off ensued, the Joker's digital watch, which lay on the table with its wires frayed out like a bad hairdo, snapped to 7:59.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

The alarm went off, prompting everyone to turn around. The Joker shifted his body, placing Casey between himself and the bags.

A couple of seconds after the watch sounded, a green light appeared on the radio, which began making its own respective noise.

_Beedobeedo_

"What the hell?" The officers looked at each other in confusion.

_Beedobeedo_

Bill's eyes suddenly snapped wide.

_Beedobeedo_

"Holy shit, ever-"

_BYEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH_

The seven bags detonated, sending shrapnel flying. It slashed into the flesh of every officer in the station, all of whom had been drawn to the holding room. As the cloud of debris raced through the air, the Joker drew a wide "U" across Casey's throat with the phone and cowered behind the large man's body, using it as a handy shield from his own bomb. The shrapnel penetrated through Casey's armor and embedded itself into his body. The blast died away fairly quickly, and the Joker poked his head out from behind his shelter. He saw George Hartway in the other cell, who was cowering on the floor, his arms and legs bloodied, but his body still very much alive.

And his eyes dilated wide with terror.

* * *

"Dammit, go on the sidewalks!"

Morgan gave in, and drove up and over the curb, avoiding traffic altogether. Jon's apartment building was just in reach.

"Stop, stop, I can make it!" Jon frantically motioned with his hands for Morgan to hit the brakes, and once the car was slow enough to jump out of without killing himself, he threw open the door and leapt from his seat, running for the apartment entrance.

* * *

Bolt spotted the sign for Collodi, and skidded to a halt, looking for which building would be suitable for a clown to kill someone in.

Bank, no.

Doctor's office, no.

He turned and spotted an abandoned grocery store. Perfect!

Bolt raced through the empty parking lot. His feet furiously padded the pavement. His breath came rapidly.

* * *

A knock at the door interrupted Amanda as she washed the milk glasses. She was curious; who would be up so late? She set down the cup on the counter and, pushing a chair out of her way, stepped towards the door. Henry and Andrew, still awake, stood back, leaning over to see who it was.

Bolt bounded up the steps to the store. The doors had been chained shut, so he simply charged through them. He looked around at the darkness inside and barked furiously, "Penny, where are you?!"

"Bolt! Thank God, I'm over here!"

But it wasn't a human voice.

* * *

Amanda opened the door to find a deliveryman with a large box. He asked, "Blythe?" She nodded. "Where do you want it, ma'am?"

"Oh, um, right on the table."

The man came through the door and set down the package, then turned to tip his hat to the kids, then Amanda. "Have a nice evening, ma'am!" He grinned at them, then went back out the door. He walked down the hallway. Then, as he heard the door shut behind him, he broke into a furious sprint.

* * *

"Over here!"

Bolt ran over to the voice to find Mindy on a leash, which was tied to a column. She was surrounded by at least twenty oil barrels, all rigged to blow.

"Thank goodness!" she gasped as Bolt bit through her leash. She started to run for the door.

"Hold on, where's Penny?!"

"Penny? She got in her dad's car, I think they went back home." The German shepherd seemed confused. "Come on, we gotta run!" Bolt slowly complied, so Mindy continued, "Mittens then went off to get some dinner, and I was by myself, and then these guys came up to me and grabbed me."

The Joker…when he had said brown-haired…Bolt could hardly believe it. He had let his passion, his anger drive him to conclusions! The duo ran out of the store and into the parking lot, and Bolt kept kicking himself over being fooled. Of course, it was good he saved Mindy. But that meant…

* * *

"What's in the box?! What's in the box!?" Andrew and Henry were ecstatic at the unexpected arrival.

"Shh! You'll wake up your sister!" Their mother chuckled at their eagerness. "Don't you guys think we should for wait for Daddy to get home?"

Both boys shook their heads. They were too excited to wait!

"Alright, get me the scissors."

Henry went to the kitchen counter and opened the drawer.

* * *

Jon fidgeted anxiously in the elevator, praying for the numbers to reach 17 more quickly.

In the second elevator shaft, not three feet away, the delivery man passed by on his way down.

* * *

"Alright guys, let's see what we got!" Amanda was hoping it was the new snow cone maker they had ordered a month ago.

She cut the twine which bound the package and slit the lid open.

She lifted it up.

There was a _click._

* * *

As Jon turned onto the hallway, a massive fireball erupted from the fifth door on the left, forcing him to shield his face away with his arm. He felt the floor shake under his feet from the blast. The flame roared angrily, and the choking smoke billowed out down the corridor.

Jon turned back, and looked with horror at his apartment's door, half obscured by the smoke, blown off two of its hinges and hanging haphazardly from its jamb, being coated by bits of debris and ash already settling out of the air.

He didn't hear himself scream his wife's or children's names.

He didn't feel the heat as he clambered into the apartment, desperate to save them.

He didn't see that it was already too late.

* * *

The Joker felt along Casey's belt for the key ring, and finding it, released the officer. The body slumped to ground, then slowly fell forward onto its face. The clown opened his own door, then came slowly sauntering over to Hartway's cell, jangling the keys in his hand. The man stared wide-eyed, his breath coming quickly and shallowly, as the Joker began fiddling with the lock.

"Hello there Georgey, remember me?"

Hartway desperately shook his head.

"Well, I think Mr. Lime-Eye would like to have a word with you…" and the cell door opened.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the firemen were busy fighting two fires: one in an old abandoned Food-Mart, the other almost two hundred feet up in a downtown apartment. One woman and three children had been evacuated to a nearby hospital, with the tragically distraught father in tow. Commissioner Thompson looked up at the burning apartment, the flames already dying down, then bowed his head. His breathing came shakily, the pain of probably having lost more lives biting down into his mind.

"Sir?" An officer came up to him from behind, "Back at the station, the Joker's gone."

Morgan turned, and angrily nodded, "With Hartway?" A nod answered him. "The Joker planned this the whole time…he wanted to get caught…he wanted me to lock him up in the station!"

* * *

The Joker raced the police car, all sirens blaring, down the road. Behind him were at least seven cops in full pursuit. George Hartway sat in the back seat, handcuffed, bound, but not gagged; his yells for help were music to the clown's ears.

Rolling down the window, the Joker stuck his head out, savoring the taste of freedom. He shook his head madly, simply enjoying the crisp cool night air, perfect for a midnight car chase.

The sirens echoed between the city's buildings, and everyone knew the super-dog had failed.


	21. The Monster Within

_Still chasing._

_"Bolt, help!"_

_Laughing._

_Bolt left a trail of wreckage behind him, as he chased down one fake Penny and Joker after another. _

_Suddenly, he lost sight of them. _

_"Bolt, over here!" echoed from everywhere. _

_"Yes, super-dog, over here!" the Joker teased._

_Then he laughed._

_And Penny laughed._

_Bolt circled around, the voices jumbling together in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut as the cacophony roared, more voices entering the fray. The ground teetered under his paws, and the world seemed to swirl around him. _

_The voices thundered._

_"…a four-legged angel of death…"_

_"…please….please, don't hurt me..." _

_ "…you've given me…REAL purpose..."_

_"…you did this to us! You did! You brought this on us!..."_

_"…they're scared of you. They all are…"_

_ "…too scared of your own dog to do the right thing..."_

_"…dangerous, a freak, like me!"_

_He couldn't take it anymore! He inhaled, and barked! _

_Bolt felt the bark as it exploded away, forming a shell of solid sound which raced down the street. Cars flipped into the air, glass shattered into buildings, people flew backwards from the impact. _

_Then it was quiet._

_Bolt was shocked, both from his own action and from the lack of his tormentor. He slowly went down the street, not a soul in sight. As he stepped past each upended vehicle, he felt a twinge of guilt. But when he saw the two bodies, he almost puked from shock._

_One was the clown, lying on his back and his eyes frozen upwards, with his face twisted into a final mocking grin._

_The other was Penny, who had still been in the Joker's clutches, and in the line of fire. Her hair was tossed about, and her mouth hung just slightly open. _

_Dogs cannot cry, Bolt knew that much. But as his heart tore itself to pieces, Bolt came closer to bawling his eyes out than any dog had before. He nudged Penny, licked her face, nuzzled under her arm, everything in his power to try to get her to wake up._

_Sadly, his powers were not meant to heal. Neither, for that matter, to repair or to construct._

_Looking at the carnage around him, Bolt realized he had only purpose, only one ability: to destroy._

_Suddenly, a mob of people came slowly up to him. They did not cheer or applaud. They held each other closely in fear. Some men came forward with shotguns and rifles and pistols, all bared and aimed straight at Bolt. _

_Bolt backed away, and they came forward. He couldn't understand; he hadn't asked for this! He didn't want these powers! It wasn't his fault!_

_Yet they pressed on, eager to apprehend the danger, the dog they couldn't understand._

_Bolt kept retreating, until he felt himself pressed against an overturned truck. The armed men began to aim, and he feared for his life._

_The fear blended into his sorrow, and the two quickly began to ferment into a spark._

_Anger._

_It wasn't his fault._

_He had done his best!_

_None of THEM had done anything!_

_His temper quickly picked up the anger and caressed it, fed it, let it grow into an inferno._

_"…and when you can't take it anymore…you'll end up like me…"_

_Bolt stepped forward, and growled at the crowd._

_The people yelled, and began to flee. A few fired shots._

_A simple direction of power made his skin impervious to any kind of human weapon. The bullets simply deflected away, striking the ground and the surrounding vehicles._

_The men stared wide-eyed at the beast who had just defied their shots. Guns, long the tool of humanity to establish rule over the animal kingdom, had failed._

_They held nothing but long tubes now in their hands as Bolt snarled and leapt upon them._

* * *

Bolt's eyes snapped open. His breathing came in heaving gasps. He was shaking, his mind still haunted by the imagery. His paws felt the carpet, and his eyes jumped around the apartment, to assure him he was home. He tried to remember how he got there; lying down on the floor, and coming home before that, and deciding to not bother with chasing the Joker before that-

"Bolt?" Mindy's voice made him jump. Both she and Mittens had come home with him, since their home didn't exist anymore. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, why?"

"You were crying and kicking in your sleep. Bad dream?"

"Yeah, it was….it was awful."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Bolt sucked in his breath. He didn't feel like discussing it right now. "I was trying to save the Blythes'," he finally lied, "I just feel so bad about it." He was silent, then, "It's my fault, isn't it? I hoped, when I started doing hero work again, to help people. I wanted to encourage people to be good. Instead, I've just inspired insanity and death." He put his head down. "Mittens was right, I shouldn't have even tried to be a hero. I've just made things worse."

Mindy tried to think of the best way to answer him. She, too, was torn apart by the loss her second family. However, she didn't want Bolt to feel too beat up about it. "Bolt, you have inspired good too, you've inspired others to help you. You've inspired me to try and do more."

Bolt didn't answer her.

"It is your fault, Bolt." Mittens, who had been awake but declined to give any sign of it, startled the two dogs with her interruption.

"Mittens, what are you-"

"Hear me out." The cat got up and sat directly in front of Bolt to look him squarely in the eyes. "Bolt, it is your fault that the Joker climbed to where he is now. It's also your fault that Calico's global domination plan was foiled a year ago. It's your fault that the humans who run this country became brave enough to take down Calico, and it's your fault that he's in such a sad shape now." Bolt slowly edged into a sitting position as Mittens continued, "My point is, you've made things happen, both bad and good. You are the super-dog! You honestly didn't think you could have the kind of power you do and not make a splash in the world?"

"Mittens, I didn't ask for these powers!"

"Well, that's not very important now, is it? You got 'em. The real question, what are you going to do with them?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm scared." Bolt looked away, and both Mittens and Mindy could see the fear and confusion in his eyes. "I'm so afraid, because…" he shook his head as his voice cracked, "…because, I don't want to become him. Last year, I almost went over the edge and became a monster. Now, I feel…"

_Dangerous, a freak, like me!_

"…I feel like I'm going down that same path again. I get angrier and angrier, I can't help it! If I were to start killing people again, I…I just don't know."

"Well, that's just it, Bolt." Mitten again spoke up, "You understand that it's wrong. Now, just answer this simple question for me: do you want to kill people with your powers?"

A quick headshake from Bolt.

"There we go. The Joker chooses to kill people, you choose not to. That's how you are different, and that's why you will not become him."

Bolt took the cat's words to heart. As he listened to them over and over in his mind, his despair seemed to shrink away a bit, and he began to feel more hopeful. "Thank you, Mittens," he mumbled, his eyes still looking far away as he fully thought out the words. He began to settle in to sleep again, and the other two followed his cue. Still, emotions fluttered around his head in a flock. Bolt felt a little better about his own self-control issue, but he still worried about his fiery temper, and his guilt for letting down Jon continued to burn in his mind. Above all, he now agonized over how long it would take to actually stop the Joker.

Suddenly, a stray thought popped into his head. "Mittens?"

"Yeah?"

"That bandit you told me about in Venezuela, did you or Calico ever find him?"

A second of silence. "…yes."

"How?"

Another pause. "Bolt, it doesn't matter-"

"How?"

Mittens struggled for words, then decided on the simplest and most forward answer.

"He razed the village to the ground."

* * *

Jon sat waiting outside the intensive care unit at Highton General Hospital. The two chairs beside him were empty. He stared at the ground ahead of him, his hands gripping each other so hard that they shook. His mouth hung slightly open, and he prayed to some deity for his family's well-being.

The nurse came out of the room, and Jon stood up, his eyes silently pleading for good news.

The nurse looked him in the eye, then looked away with a saddened expression.

That's all Jon needed.

The sound, the whole room drowned out around him. He barely felt his face contort in despair, or heard his voice cry out a sobbing cry. He shoved the nurse aside and barged through the doors. Nothing existed except the four beds, each with a different sized body on them, their faces covered with sheets as a final respect.

The soundless sobbing turned to similarly silent yelling, then howling, then screaming. The nurse was suddenly joined by two others, and six hands began trying to drag Jon out of the room. He struggled against the hands, tearing them away in fury. Jon's ears rang feverishly as he was slowly wrested away from the room.

His wife was gone.

His daughter was gone.

His sons were gone.

Everything he had loved in the world was gone.

And now he was alone.


	22. My City

"Bill, I have to disagree with you. So far, the dog has been our best weapon against the Joker. Last night's performance-"

"Was a perfect example of his incompetence! It caught the clown, yes, but then ran off and gave him the chance to escape! And for what? Some girl dog. That's right, he saved his own mate rather than a human family. What does that tell you about the super-dog?"

Bill DeFarro and Hugh Novra, co-hosts of _Highton Daily_, debated the issue on the millions of screens across the city. On one particular screen, Penny, Bolt, Mindy, and Mittens watched them talk. Bolt was snuggled up against Penny, and she held him close to comfort him.

"Here, let's go to the next caller." Bill pulled out a little remote and pushed a button. "Hello, caller, you're on the air."

A momentary pause, then, "_Thank you, Bill! What I want to know is, if the super-dog can't, or maybe even won't stop the Joker, but the Joker claims that he'll stop when he kills the super-dog, why we aren't considering trusting the latter? And even in a worst-case scenario, I'd much rather deal with only one psychopath instead of two!"_

Bolt whimpered softly and tried to push closer to Penny, the stinging words biting into him. Penny tried to comfort him, "Shh, it's okay boy, it's okay."

* * *

Richard stepped into the hospital room, and looked at Jon for the first time since the man had bolted from the police station last night. His arms were strapped to the bed, covered in scabs, scratches, and burns. Jon's eyes stared away, refusing to look at his former friend.

Richard opened his mouth to speak, choking on words, "I…I wanted to see you, Jon. See how you were doing."

Cold silence.

"The nurse told me about what happened last night. About how you reacted…how they had to drag you away."

No response.

"They said you tried hurting yourself, because you were angry and distressed." Richard glanced pointedly at the straps holding his friend's arms. "Is that why they tied you down?"

"Richard…" Jon still looked away, but he began to whisper softly. "The first time you told me about what you did to Bolt, you promised me something. What was it?"

"Jonny, please, I-"

"Tell me…"

Richard glanced away uncomfortably.

"TELL ME!"

Richard jumped at the outburst, then reluctantly answered. "I said, I would never do anything to hurt your family."

Then Jon turned his head to look at Richard. His eyes burned darkly. "Why would you lie to me, Richard?"

Richard shook his head lightly, trying to be comforting but correcting, "I didn't do anything, Jon. You know that. It was the Joker."

The eyes never ceased to project blame, "Only because of Bolt. You made Bolt."

"Jon, please listen to-"

"NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME!" Jon's head and hands jerked upward, only to be restrained. Richard stepped back in alarm. Jon pointed his right finger, his chest heaving up and down. The words were spat out now, with contempt bitterly laced into them, "I put myself in the line of fire to protect my family. I wouldn't have had to do that if you had turned Bolt back to normal. I did everything I could, but you did not."

The nurse came into the room and took Richard's arm, "Sir, we have to ask you to leave. You're upsetting the patient, he's not well."

Richard nodded softly, but as he turned to go, he faced Jon to say one last comforting thing, the one phrase he could muster up: "I'm sorry, Jon."

"No," Jon shook his head, "no you're not. Not yet..."

* * *

On the other side of town, a far different kind of meeting was going on. In an abandoned dock warehouse, a mountain of cash sat shielded from the world's view. Sitting atop the pile was George Hartway, bound and gagged, looking around in fear. Climbing the pile was the Joker, enjoying a quarter of Calico's assets as early payment for his services. Surrounding the pile were ten men in clown masks, armed with cheap submachine rifles, and three men in black bodysuits and helmets, adorned with the green cat-eye logo and carrying their own bullpup machine guns. And finally, Doctor Calico himself, watching the Joker with some amusement.

"I have to admit, er…Mr. Joker," Calico spoke as he watched the clown walking atop the pile, "I had my misgivings about you when we first met. But, you have more than proven yourself worthy!"

"Of course, I said I'm a man of my word!" He jumped and slid down the mountain of cash.

"Now, once you actually eliminate the dog, then you shall receive the rest of your payment. But, as you have performed splendidly so far, I offer half of your requested price as a symbol of our goodwill."

He watched the Joker begin to pick up thick bricks of cash and hurl them at Hartway, still sitting on top of the tall heap. The frightened man tried to dodge what he could.

"You know, I could use a man of your talents in high places in my organization."

No answer from the clown, who kept chucking the money wads at Hartway.

"I would be delighted if you would consider joining Calico Industries. I can offer many rewards, the best of which is a position on the top of the new social order which we will eventually institute."

The Joker turned finally and faced the doctor. His attention was grabbed, and Calico smiled darkly.

"Can I count you in, then?" He extended his hand to shake.

The Joker walked up to him, his head bowed as if in reflection, then lifted up as he rolled his eyes to think of what to say. "Well, that sounds great and all. World domination, wonderful plan, really. So original."

"But?..." Calico's brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Well, I have a busy schedule. So many things to do, so many places to be. And really, on top of that, it's just not my thing."

"I see…" Calico retracted his hand, and stood silently, looking the Joker right in the face, for once in his life at a loss for words.

"If you want, though, you can join us! We're about to have a barbecue!"

"A…what?" Calico watched as the Joker turned and motioned to his clowns, who nodded, walked around behind a shipping container, and emerged with tanks of gasoline. "What? What are you doing?!"

"A barbecue, silly!" The Joker smiled and spoke happily, like a father showing his son how to grill for the first time. "First, we need the gas to start the fire…" he pointed at his thugs, who were dousing the money in the liquid. "Then, we need something to keep the fire going…" he motioned at the cash mountain. "And now, all we need…" he pulled out a lighter from his pocket, "is the fire!"

"Why, you insolent-"

"Ah tatata," the Joker laid a single purple-gloved finger on Calico's lips, "it's my money, remember?" and he flicked the lighter open, lit it, and threw it onto the pile all in one deft motion.

The flames began to angrily devour the cloth, hundreds of millions of dollars simply crumpling and blackening. Hartway looked down, his eyes wide with horror, as the fire began to lick up towards where he sat. His muffled screaming sounded throughout the warehouse.

Calico looked behind him at his guards. They took no action to stop the Joker, and, as he watched, began to step past the doctor to join the clowns. He turned back to the Joker, who looked him right in the eyes.

"All you care about is money and control," the Joker spoke and drew closer to Calico, who stood his ground but was obviously stirred, "I think it's about time you took a little vacation. Might finally cure your overgrown grape of an eye." He let his demand register with the doctor. "Tell your men they work for me now. This city is mine."

Calico didn't answer, his mind rapidly trying to calculate a solution that would still benefit him. The Joker waited a few seconds, then flicked his hand to reveal a long, steel potato peeler.

"I only have a limited patience, Doc, so I suggest you think quickly."

Doctor Calico finally did something he had never done before; he beat a retreat. He stepped backwards, then walked, then trotted, then jogged for the door, all the while glancing back to make sure he wasn't followed.

The Joker watched him go, then shook his head. "Thought the party pooper would never leave." He pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number.

* * *

"Let's take the next caller. Who is-"

_"Why hello, Billy!"_ The nasally voice grabbed Bolt's attention, as his ears snapped forward and he turned to stare at the television. The two hosts glanced around confusedly, then with growing dread as the Joker talked. _"You've been saying a lot of things lately that have got me thinking, about what it would be like if I DID kill the super-dog. And you know what I saw in this vision? The police chasing their tails, trying to find Calico as he ran around with his arms full of money. And you know where I was in all of this? Sitting around, bored. I've decided to change my mind, I don't want the super-dog dead anymore, and I don't want anyone trying to spoil our fun. In fact, I'd like to play a little game right now with our dear friend Bill DeFarro. If Billy is not dead in an hour, then I set off a bomb somewhere in the city! Oh, what will it be? How about a kindergarten? Ooh, a resting home? A trauma center?"_

Bill DeFarro sat dumbfounded for a moment, chilled to the bone. Then he saw the studio audience, hundreds of eyes staring at him…eyes that had children in school, or loved in ones in the hospital.

_"Yeah, let's play!" _and with a click, the phone went off.

The last shot that Penny and Bolt saw was of Bill leaping from his chair and running back behind the scenes while the crowd exploded with yelling; then the cameras cut.

Penny darted from her seat to the computer. "Bolt, we have to help that man!" She began typing on the keyboard.

Bolt whined unhappily to indicate he had no wish to do so. Penny turned and stared at him.

"I know he was just badmouthing you on television, but he's still a citizen of the city, so YOU still have to save him. You have to put your duties above your feelings," and with that, she turned back to the screen.

Bolt winced at her words, especially because she was right. Following rash impulses was exactly what had caused last night's tragedy. A few more strokes of the keys, and then Penny stood up again.

"Alright, the show is broadcast from the local news, channel 12. Their station is just five blocks down the road that way," she pointed with her finger, "and that's where DeFarro is. Get down there and protect him!" She glanced around at the animals, got back a feeling of consent, and then went for the towel and dish soap.

Time to play the clown's game.


End file.
